Danger from home
by Maria86
Summary: While on a difficult case in Philadelphia, Emily has also some personal problems to solve. Even great FBI agents can crumble when danger comes from their own home... Hints of H/P. Don't own CM.
1. Chapter 1

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. English not my mother language, please excuse any mistake.**

**Chapter 1: Disturbed sleep**

Aaron's Hotchner's nights usually were very short. The supervisory agent rarely got home before the first hours of the next day, and he made it a point to be at the office before all his agents. Which meant that, on regular paperwork days, he rarely slept over five hours a night. And this did not include nights spent on the field, all over the country, in crammed motel rooms or on the couch of a random police station. So, when the FBI agent's head finally hit the pillow, sometime between midnight and three in the morning, he would fall into a deep coma for the next few hours. Tonight, he had not even taken the time to get off his suit before crashing on his king-size bed. Aaron had kicked off his shoes and torn off his tie, which was now lying somewhere between his mattress and the bedroom door. The alarm clock was set on six a.m. Tomorrow would be a slow day, they had decided the evening before, after the jet had landed. Another draining case, another week of sleepless days spent in a far-away state, in-between dump sites, police stations and crime scenes. So, when the ringing tone of his cell phone echoed just after one in the morning, Aaron Hotchner swore to himself, keeping his voice low for his five-year-old son's sake. He would never get a restful night.

"Hotch." He answered when his fingers had found the call button.

"Aaron Hotchner?" The voice on the other end was hesitant and the agent immediately recognized it as an elderly woman's. Wondering why an unknown woman who knew his name was calling in the middle of the night, Aaron Hotchner straightened up in bed and brushed the last remnants of sleep off his face. She didn't really have the voice of a stalker.

"Yes. Who am I talking to?"

"Um… I am truly sorry to call you this late." She continued hesitantly. "I am Amy Richardson." Hotch's mind quickly scanned through the cases of last year in search of this name, in vain. "I live next door to Emily Prentiss…"

Hotch immediately focused on the sound of the name, as he waited for elaboration.

"Again, sorry to bother you."

"No worries, is she alright?"

"It's just… you're first on her emergency contact details…" For a second, the dark-haired agent wondered why Emily would chose him as emergency contact instead of her own mother, but then again, he spent much more time with the young agent than her family.

"What's wrong?"

"Maybe nothing. I'm not sure…"

"Calm down and tell me what happened." Hotch tried to take on his gentle voice, the one he used with victims, so as not to startle the woman. He could imagine that, whatever had led to this call, it had to be big.

"I heard shouts coming from her apartment, and a crashing noise. It's very unusual for Emily… When I knocked on the door to check up on her, she sent me away. She apologized and said that she had an argument with a friend."

Hotch frowned, wondering what friend might be at Emily Prentiss' apartment in the middle of the night.

"And what makes you think it was not just that?"

The silence on the other end of the line was eloquent. The woman obviously pondered whether she should have called in the first place, whether she maybe had overreacted.

"She had a bruised lip and an eye that was half-closed. M. Hotchner, I was in an abusive marriage myself for thirty-two years. I know a battered woman when I see one… I thought that it was best to call someone she knew, as she obviously didn't want the police to come over." The words had been spat out at an incredible rate after this long silence, as though Amy wanted to get it off her chest. When she came to an abrupt end, Hotch was at a loss of words. Never had he thought of Emily Prentiss as a victim. She was a fighter, a trained FBI agent, an independent woman. But not a victim to men. Gathering his thoughts, Hotch realized he had yet to react to the statement.

"Thank you for calling, Mrs Richardson. I'll be right over." With that, he shut the phone and stayed a few more moments sat on the side of his bed, pondering what would be the best way to burst into his agent's apartment in the middle of the night.

xxx

Emily had been looking at her reflection for the past minutes, her hand frozen in mid-air, as she had intended to clean off the blood from her split lip. A dark bruise had already begun forming around her left eye, where the wooden floor of her bedroom had come into contact with her face. Strangely, it looked much worse than the simple bruised lip, which was Dean's original doing. Emily noticed that her hand was slightly shaking, as she wiped off the not yet dry blood from her chin. She still couldn't believe what had happened. Only an hour before, they had been chatting friendly over a glass of wine, him joking around and her trying to keep up with his energy after this tiresome day. She had been all fuzzy when she had found the man awaiting her in front of her apartment building, and had gladly invited him in. And there she was, wiping off the traces of his violence. How a simple statement could trigger such an outburst, it still was incomprehensible to her. The man had hidden well his anger management problems. Closing her eyes, Emily tried to erase images of Dean's balled fist approaching her face, of herself getting off her bedroom floor while holding her head, of the look in Dean's eyes when she had pushed him out of her apartment. A knock suddenly interrupted her thoughts, and her eyes immediately searched for the gun, safely stored away in the bedroom drawer. She went as silently as possible to the piece of furniture, grabbed the Glock and walked back to the main door, carefully approaching her eye from the peephole, in case Dean had chosen to come back and finish off his job, so to say.

"Crap." She couldn't help swearing when the familiar face of Hotch appeared on the other side of the door. She knew she couldn't just pretend not to be home, because he had probably seen the lights on. Neither could she tell him to get the hell away from her door – after all, he was her chief unit and one of her friends, and his visit could be work-related. Emily took a deep breath and opened the door, careful to stay in the dim light of her entrance so that the blows would not appear too much.

"Hi." She said without a smile, that would have been too painful. "Did I miss a call?"

Hotch frowned and just stared at his friend, noting that she was still wearing her work clothes at almost three in the morning. And even in the half obscurity, he could clearly see the swollenness on the left side of her face.

"No… no, you didn't. Can I come in?"

Emily hesitated and finally opened the door enough for her superior to enter. He couldn't help noticing the gun in Emily's hand.

"Were you… awaiting someone?" he asked, pointing to the weapon with a stern look.

Emily seemed to hesitate a moment, and finally put the gun away with a nod.

"Hotch, why are you here?" she asked, brushing past him to get to the kitchen.

"Your neighbor called me." At his statement, the brunette stopped breathing and absent-mindedly looked at the thin wall separating the two apartments. She knew she should have not opened that door in the first place.

"It's nothing, Hotch."

The two stayed in an uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say, until Hotch finally took a step forward, reaching the kitchen island. He had spent the whole drive to Emily's apartment thinking about how he would touch the subject, whether he should ask bluntly if she was alright, whether he should collect a name and address and pay a little visit to the careless man, but none of this now seemed appropriate. Emily was a very private and defensive person, in work and in life, and Hotch would have to work harder to get through the wall.

"Emily, have you looked at your face?" Tears welled up in Emily's eyes as the question sunk in and she came to realize the reality of the night's events. She cleared her throat, fighting the wetness of her eyes away, and opened her mouth to say something, not finding the right words.

"Tell me what happened." Hotch's voice cut in again.

"It was so unexpected." Emily's eyes were now lost somewhere on the kitchen counter, in the depths of the half-empty glass of rosé. "He went for my gun, said he wanted to see one for real. I took it away from him, and he just… went mad."

While she was talking, the dark-haired agent let his eyes linger over her figure, assessing the damage. Her face was indeed swollen and bluish around her left eye, and dried blood was punctuating her chin and the corner of her mouth. But apart from that, she seemed okay, physically at least.

"Who is _he_?" The words escaped his lips before he even knew. He hadn't known that Emily was seeing someone, not that they confided much into each other outside work. But the brunette was a very simple and honest person, who would not try to hide a relationship from her colleagues.

"Dean Johnson. We've been… going out for a few weeks. I just don't understand…"

When the brunette turned away and leaned her back against the counter, Hotch could tell that she was trying her best not to break. Unconsciously, he took another step forward, slowly making his way around the island to reach his friend, even though it was too early for a contact.

"Was he ever… violent before?" he asked in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the bloody tissue Emily was clutching. From his angle, the swollenness of her cheek and eye was even more spectacular, and he quickly shook away these thoughts. He remembered all too well the beaten face of his own mother, when Hotchner senior had had too much to drink.

"Never." Hotch was quite taken aback when Emily turned briskly to face him, in a defensive way. Making excuses for the man, another pattern of abused women, he couldn't help thinking.

"Emily, do you want to come with me to the police and file in a claim?"

The brunette frowned and lowered her eyes to a spot on Hotch's chest, to avoid his gaze. She was slowly taking in his attire, very unusual for the boss he was. No suit, no tie, not even leather shoes. After all, it was three in the morning and the man had probably been sleeping before Amy called him to the rescue. Which explained the Yale sweatshirt and jogging pants he had no doubt hastily put on before leaving his house.

"Hotch, it's not that serious. Thank you for coming anyway."

Although this had been meant as a 'goodbye', the man did not move from his spot nor tear his eyes away from Emily's, until she finally looked up again.

"I am not leaving."

"I already dealt with the problem, Hotch." Emily spat out a little harshly, not liking where this conversation was going. She was no and would never be a victim, and surely wasn't going to be treated like one. "I kicked the bastard out of my apartment and told him not to come back. He got the message and I don't need my boss holding my hand. I can take care of myself."

Hotch merely flinched at the angry tone and finally took a step backwards. He had experienced first-hand how stubborn Emily Prentiss could be, in work as well as life, but was not one to give up either.

"Emily, I was not going to hold your hand or let you cry on my shoulder, because I know it's not your kind. I wanted to make sure you were alright, and in no danger. And _if_ you ever feel like talking about what happened, you know I'm there anytime. I could also kick his ass, if that's what you want." The last sentence was said a little lighter and meant to make her smile, but it only managed to lighten the dark look in her eyes a bit.

"I don't think that will be necessary, but thanks." The dark-haired agent was satisfied when Emily let out a little smile to accompany her response. Despite her reticence, he knew that she appreciated his gesture.

"Are you sure you are alright? I'd feel better if you were checked up by a doctor."

"It's only a scratch. I've been punched in the face before, you know."

Hotch nodded. He remembered all too well all the times when she had gotten injured on the field, to his dismay. Beaten up, knocked out with a piece of wood, nearly shot… Compared to these occasions, the little fight tonight seemed like nothing. But then again, the danger had for once come from home and not the job, and that made it all different.

"Okay." He finally said, his eyes lingering on Emily's face a few more seconds before he turned heels and let the brunette lead him back to the main door. Before she shut the door though, he turned again to her and added, already knowing her answer:

"Don't feel obliged to come in tomorrow, Emily."

The brunette shot another smirk in his direction.

"See you tomorrow, Hotch. And thanks again for coming over. I hope you'll get some sleep."

"You too." He whispered, waiting for the door to click shut before making his way to the elevator. Despite her advice, he was sure as hell that he was not going to get any more sleep tonight, not with the images of Emily beaten up or of his own abused mother filling his head. On the other side of the door, Emily was leaning her face against the door, enjoying the coldness that relieved the pain a little. For a moment, she really pondered whether she should take up Hotch's offer of a day off. Not that she really wanted to rest, but she dreaded her colleagues' reactions when they would notice the state of her face. This was way too big to hide under a little make-up or sunglasses. With these thoughts in mind, Emily finally pushed herself away from the door and went up to her bathroom. If she felt unable to sleep, maybe a relaxing bath would help get her through the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. English not my mother language, so excuse any mistakes.**

**Chapter 2: The morning after**

_The boy looked through the half closed blinds of the dressing room, but all he could see from this angle was the wooden floor of the master bedroom and the blue carpet. In the semi-obscurity, his ears had taken over his eyes, and he concentrated on the noises around him. It was going on pretty hard downstairs, from the shouts that echoed through the staircase. When the big man had raised the first hand over his mother's head, Aaron had fled upstairs to his usual hiding place. He shut his eyes close when the too familiar sound of his father's footsteps came to his ears. He knew the big man would be coming for him._

Aaron's eyes shot open right when the 'big man' was reaching for the doorknob of the dressing room. It took him a few seconds to comprehend his environment and realize that he was no more the fearful child he had once been. He was no less than a trained and overworked FBI agent who had fallen asleep on his sofa, from pure exhaustion. Rubbing the sleepiness off his eyes, the dark-haired man looked at his wristwatch to realize that it was almost six. He had come home just after four, after driving around for over half an hour to clear his mind, thankful that Jessica had agreed to come over and watch his son. The man got up from his uncomfortable sleeping position, trying to erase the last traces of the nightmare that had filled his restless sleep. It had been years since he had last dreamt of his childhood, probably since the death of his mother, six years ago. And all it had taken was to see Emily Prentiss with her swollen face and look of shame. He wasn't sure he would be able to face her today. She reminded him too much of his own past, and he couldn't bear to see her become victim to another man.

Xxx

"_What do you think you're doing?" her voice was harsh. It took her a long time to let a man enter her apartment and feel comfortable around someone else in her own home, and he was ruining it all. She didn't like another person sneaking in her personal belongings. Let alone her gun._

"_Calm down, Em, I just wanted to have a look…" Devon's voice had a funny tone. He obviously wasn't taking her seriously. So she took a step forward and grabbed the weapon out of his hands, to make herself clear._

"_It's the job, Devon. No one is supposed to touch this. It can be dangerous…"_

_A whistle escaped the man's lips although the dark look in his eyes told another story. He was pissed._

"_Oh, _dangerous_, eh? Emily, you are so defensive. Why don't you let anyone in for once? I am not a god damn child!" The brunette looked at her friend, frowning at the angry voice. She had never heard him this serious and hostile before._

"_This is not a game. And why are you shouting?" Unconsciously, Emily had crossed her arms on her chest in a protective mode._

"_I am angry because you are so proud to be independent that it becomes impossible to keep up with you… You, your job, your colleagues, where do I fit in?"_

_Emily looked with bewilderment at Devon. This outburst was so sudden and irrational that she was at a loss for words._

"_Why… I don't follow you… What are you talking about?"_

_She merely reacted when Devon's fist collided with her jaw, making her waltz to the ground with a bump. With her face lying flat against the ground, Emily gasped for breath. She didn't move for a lonely second, and her training kicked in. She lifted her body from the ground and turned around, ready to fight. But Devon hadn't moved from his spot, merely staring at her with bewilderment. At his own actions, at Emily's fearless reaction, she didn't know. When the silence had become too unbearable, the brunette finally stepped forward, her raised finger not leaving any doubt to her visitor._

"_Get the hell out of here." She hissed, trying to hold his gaze as long as she could. She couldn't break down in front of him._

"_Emily…"_

"_Get the hell out. Now." Her voice had risen and her eyes were shooting flames. But she was caught off guard when he plunged forward to grab her throat._

Emily briskly sat up, opening her eyes and immediately closing them to protect them from the bright light of her desk lamp. She frantically looked around her, not quite sure of her surroundings, until she realized that she was sitting at her desk, in her living room. Brushing a hand over her face, she was painfully reminded that the nightmare she had just had was not a nightmare. After a minute, she dared to open her eyes again and let her left hand wander over the wooden board to turn off the aggressive lamp. Surprisingly, it was already daylight outside. Her fingers wandered over the desk to finally find her cell phone, and Emily realized that it was well past seven. She had absolutely no idea of when she had fallen asleep. She just remembered sitting down with a couple of reports to write, but there was hardly any writing on the paper under her eyes, so she must have blacked out fairly quickly. Raising a hand to her swollen eye, the brunette got up and reached her bathroom to check the disaster. The corner of her eye had turned into a blue mass, although the bruised lip looked a little better now. Maybe she should have put more ice on the injury the evening before. She would definitely have to wear sunglasses today.

"You look awful…" Hotch raised his head to find David Rossi standing in the doorframe. The man was hiding a smirk.

"Thank you, Dave. Have you come in here just to tease me?" The impatient tone in his voice was nothing new to David Rossi, who merely closed the door and came to sit on the edge of the desk.

"Actually, JJ wants us in the conference room in fifteen."

"So why are you making yourself comfortable in my office?" Hotch asked lightly without raising his eyes from the paper he was scribbling on. Another damn budget report.

"What's eating at you? You've not even got out of your office for your usual coffee, what's the matter?"

The pen made a clicking noise when the dark-haired man put it down on the desk, before joining his hands. David Rossi was observing his every move, and Hotch's body language was only confirming that there was something bothering him.

"I didn't sleep a lot last night."

"You never sleep a lot at night. That's not all, is it?"

"I was over at Emily's." He simply said, not quite knowing how to slip in the uneasy information.

"Oh, did you finally make a move?" the grinning man simply asked, although his grin disappeared when Hotch raised surprised eyes to him.

"What? Oh, no, not like this." Although, deep inside, he couldn't help wondering why he felt so overprotective of his agent.

"So what were you doing in the middle of the night at your agent's house?" The sarcastic tone in Rossi's voice could not be mistaken.

"Her neighbor called me because she had heard strange noises coming from the apartment. Apparently Emily had a fight with her boyfriend."

Rossi looked around him, not knowing where to begin. Emily Prentiss had a boyfriend? Emily's neighbor had Hotch's number in case of emergencies? They had a fight? He decided against interrupting his friend, and waited for elaboration.

"He hit her, Dave. I don't know who this clown is, but you should have seen her face…" There was undeniably fire in Aaron's eyes, a fire Dave had no more seen since Foyet. He frowned at the thought.

"Somehow I guess we'll see it soon enough… What did she tell you?"

"That she kicked his ass out and could take care of herself."

"That's my girl." The light tone of Dave's voice made Hotch raise his head once again. He was obviously waiting for an advice. "You know Emily. If she needs help… she won't say it. We'll have to keep an eye on her."

The dark-haired agent nodded without saying a word, and waited for Dave to free the corner of his desk to stand up himself. He had to find a way to get his mind off his agent, and focus on the case.

Emily refused to stop at any mirror to check up her appearance, before walking into the elevator. She had done her best with the make-up, and had even put on large sunglasses to hide most of the damage, but questions would undoubtedly arise. Her best chance was now to do as though everything was fine, to at least reassure the others, if she couldn't quite convince herself. She had spent the whole drive to Quantico wondering whether she should tell the blunt truth or make up a lie. Maybe her getting mugged in the street was less frightening to her colleagues than her occasional boyfriend hitting her in her own apartment. She was still busy with her thoughts when the elevator reached the fifth floor and the doors revealed the busy corridor leading to the bullpen, full of people at almost all times of the day. She quickly reached the glass doors to the open space, grateful when she saw that not many of her colleagues were there to witness her entry. Derek was just getting seated at his own desk, probably back from another coffee trip, while Reid was looking intently at the newspaper he brought with him each morning. But neither JJ, Rossi or Hotch were in sight.

"Hello, guys." The brunette called out, throwing her handbag on her desk and getting seated. She was intending to act as normal as possible, although it felt hard with the throbbing of her head, that had not stopped since she had woken up.

"Hey, Prentiss." Derek answered while Reid only greeted her with a smile. From his particular angle, he had a clear sight on her face, and Emily was not a bit surprised when he took his feet off the desk, where they had been resting, to approach her.

"Hey… What happened to you?" The young doctor had always had a very soft voice but it was now filled with panic and concern, as he came to sit on the corner of Emily's desk, silently demanding that she let him see the damage. Suppressing a sigh, the brunette finally took off her sunglasses, only to have her two male colleagues gasp in shock.

"God, what's with your face?" Derek Morgan let out, accompanying his question with a frown.

Emily tried to smile but it turned into a horrible grimace because of the split lip.

"It's not as bad as it looks, guys. Let's say my last boyfriend was not the right one."

"Boyfriend?" JJ's voice echoed from the staircase, where she had frozen, witnessing the whole scene from the distance. When Emily turned her head to locate the origin of the question, the blonde agent's mouth dropped open. She hadn't yet had the opportunity to see all the damage.

"Oh God!" For a brief second, Emily thought that JJ was going to drop her files, but her female colleague quickly regained control over her movements and jogged down graciously the few steps with her high heels. "Did he hit you? I didn't even know you had a boyfriend!"

"Well, it's better you don't know him now, isn't it?" Emily said sarcastically, before turning back to the fuming Morgan and the questioning Reid. "And it suffice to say that he is no longer allowed near me. Don't worry guys, these few scratches will heal…"

With that, she met their colleagues' eyes, to make sure that each of them had gotten the message and would drop the subject. She didn't want to lie to them, but she was not willing either to go too much into details.

"Prentiss, a word?" Before any of them could react, the familiar figure of Hotch appeared in the doorframe to his office. He had a stern look, the same that he had worn the night before, only he seemed a little calmer. Emily nodded and walked upstairs without a look backwards. She could feel her colleagues' eyes linger on her.

"Why is it that Hotch doesn't seem surprised?" Morgan turned to the others when the couple had disappeared in the office. By then, David Rossi had joined them in the bullpen, hands in his pockets and unusually calm. Of course, he was not about to hand Hotch's confession over to his colleagues, although he could understand their confusion.

"Why is it that you don't seem surprised?" Reid continued, looking straight into the elderly agent's eyes.

"People, the best we can do now is give Emily some privacy and get back to work. Apparently she has dealt with this as she thought necessary." He said calmly, looking respectively to the three younger agents.

"Did you know about this?"

"Hotch told me."

"So Hotch knew? How? Do we know the name of this son of a bitch?" By the way Derek Morgan was balling his fists and the angry tone in his voice, everyone could tell that he was pissed. They had better keep him away from the man if they wanted to avoid a bloodshed.

"If Emily wishes to share more details with any of us, she will do it herself. Until then, it is preferable that we assure her of our support rather than harass her with our questions. Understood?"

Rossi was rarely authoritarian, but there were times when his team members needed someone to bring them back to reason and keep them in the line.

"Briefing?" he added with a raised eyebrow, looking at JJ.

"Yeah. I'll be ready in five." Reluctantly, the blonde liaison officer turned her heels and directed her steps to the conference room.

Hotch waited for Emily to penetrate his office before quietly closing the door behind them. He could see that she was a little uneasy around him, and just hoped she didn't resent him for bursting into her home the night before.

"I just wanted to save you from the tons of questions…" he said with a smirk, although his face always kept its seriousness.

"Thanks, you indeed got me out of an embarrassing situation…" she tried to smile in return but quickly dropped it, deciding for a nod instead.

"How is the head?" He was looking at her injuries with such concern and softness that it almost made the brunette uneasy. She was not used to protective gestures.

"Sore." She grimaced to make her point.

"Are you sure you should be here today?"

"It's just a bruise. Besides, I think we have a case…" Indeed, the numerous files and serious look on JJ's face had not escaped Emily as a sign of an upcoming case.

"True. Have you gotten any sleep last night?"

"Kind of. The boring reports knocked me off." She smirked although the nightmare that had filled her sleep was still too vivid for her likings. Hotch was about to tell her that he himself had been caught by sleep in the most uncomfortable place of his apartment, but decided against it. He wasn't supposed to let it get to him so much.

"You're a weird person." He finally said, sniffling. "They're probably waiting for us. Shall we?"

The brunette nodded and turned to lead the way to the conference room, where the other profilers were already seated around the circular table. Only JJ was still standing, and the remote control in her hand told them that she was ready for the show to begin. She had the courtesy to wait for her superior and friend to sit down before shooting.

"Philadelphia was the theatre to a series of murders targeting young females in their twenties." The blonde pressed on the remote control until different pictures had filled the screen. Before-after images showing smiling young women and horrid crime scenes to match.

"Young females are a recurrent target. What makes local police think that these cases are linked?" Reid intervened, pointing his pen at the screen.

"The MO. Although the position of the bodies does not show this at first, each victim had the word 'liar' engraved into their chest, pre-mortem. Though they didn't immediately connect the first and last two, because the cause of death changed." JJ continued, displaying some more detailled images of the carvings and various injuries. "Marion Bayers, first victim, 23, was suffocated, as was the second victim, Maureen Gravin, 21. Then the unsub changes his method and goes for repeated beating. The third victim died of head trauma while the last had a ruptured spleen which caused internal hemorrhagy." By the time she had finished her report, their colleagues' faces had taken a strange white turn, as they stared blankly at the multiple pictures.

"He really took it out on the last two…" Emily noticed, flinching as yet another image of the last victim's bruised body came to her sight.

"Were they raped?" Morgan asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"All four, yes. Strangely, there are no marks of ligature on their wrists or ankles, and few defensive wounds."

"So the unsub must have used something to knock them out." Morgan followed JJ's reasoning.

"Did the toxic exam show anything?" Reid asked. His eyes had shifted to the stack of papers the liaison agent had handed over to each member of the team.

"Apparently they found traces of GHB in their blood. The unsub went for drugging them."

"That's quite strange." Emily's eyes narrowed as she spoke out loud her thoughts. "Given the amount of violence used, you would think that the unsub feeds on the fear of his victims. He shows how strong he is, how he can overpower them. This makes no sense if they are already knocked out."

Hotch nodded, considering the point the brunette had just raised.

"She is right there. This murderer is clearly sadistic. He wants his victims to suffer, to cry out their pain, to realize that they are going to die from his hands. Why would he play around while they are unconscious?" he added, looking over to Emily as he so often did, to get her impressions.

"Hang on a second. What do you say about the change in MO? The message doesn't change, neither does the type of victims, but he switches from a 'soft' death to the most violent action." Morgan looked at the round.

"Maybe we are looking at two killers? Maybe it is a copycat who killed the third and fourth victims?" Reid raised an eyebrow, but was cut off short by JJ.

"Unlikely. The detail about the word engraved in each victim's chest was never released to the public."

"Then two unsubs working together?" However improbable this sounded, the young doctor didn't want to let any option untouched.

"As you probably know, statistics show that two unsubs working together are a very rare thing. And when they do, their targets are more random." Rossi intervened, staring with a funny look to Reid. He was quite surprised that the young agent had not yet thrown in some of his well-known statistics. "I think we are facing one unsub, but something triggered his change of method. What we have to find out is what was that trigger."

Silence fell upon the group, until Hotch raised his head and silently nodded to JJ. They had grown into the habit of understanding what each of them was thinking without a word, so the blonde immediately began gathering the different files.

"Anyway, I think this is a case for us. Grab your ready bags, wheels up in twenty." With that, he stood up and was out of the room before anyone could even close his notepad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Excuse any mistakes as English is not my mother language. Thanks for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism.**

**Chapter 3: Brainstorming and headaches**

The first thing Emily Prentiss did when she had sat down in her leather seat was take out the bottle of Advil out of her handbag and throw two capsules into her mouth, swallowing them without even a mouthful of water. The throbbing in her head had lessened, but was still keeping her from thinking straight. Briefly closing her eyes, the brunette did not miss the concerned look of Hotch and JJ. While the dark-haired man quickly turned his eyes away, JJ did not let it go and stared at her friend until she finally met her gaze.

"I'm _fine_." She spat out, to meet the smirk on the blonde's face. This answer had been awaited. "Just a little headache."

JJ opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it when Morgan and Reid brushed past her to get seated as well. The personal conversation would have to wait till after the case. Once the jet had taken off and they were allowed to unbuckle their seatbelts, Reid and Rossi moved to sit on the table next to the square of four seats.

"JJ, can you remind us of the dates of the murders?" Rossi began, to get the team moving.

"Well, the first victim was killed approximately two months ago, and was followed one month after by the second murder. The last two were in a more rapid time frame, with two weeks apart only." The blonde answered without even looking at her files. With the years, she had come to develop a very good memory for this kind of details. Cause of death, time frame, MO, victims' names were punctuating her daily life.

The agents exchanged a concerned look.

"He's not only escalating in violence, but getting more and more impatient." Hotch was the first to say out loud what everyone had been thinking. "Which makes it difficult to predict when he is going to strike again."

"Well, the last murder occurred two days ago. We probably don't have more than four or five days before he kills again…" JJ intervened.

"Or he might have had his breakdown already and begin to kill without pausing anymore." Reid finished, looking at his superior officer.

Sensing the tension arise, the dark-haired agent cleared his throat and tapped both hands on the folded table, in front of him.

"There are many aspects of this case which are not predictable. Let's concentrate on what we know for sure. We have one definite type of victims. What does that tell us?" Saying this, he looked at the concentrated expression of Reid, but his eyes kept travelling back to Emily's swollen face. He had noticed she closed her eyes from time to time, probably fighting off the headache. The young agent's voice brought him back to reality.

"Well, all the victims are young, between 21 and 25 years old, and had no criminal records."

"More than that," JJ intervened, looking at the files in her hand, "they all were evolving in pretty high spheres. Private schools, great universities, no side job to their studies…" she recited.

"Young and innocent girls from upper class." Morgan said, resuming the information. "First of all, given the amount of violence used and the choice of victims, the unsub can only be a man."

"If what makes him tick is to overpower his victims, then he probably picks them younger than he is." Rossi continued, looking absent-mindedly at the coffee mugs on the folded table.

"White male between 25 and 40, that still leaves millions of suspects…" noticed Emily with a dark voice. "Do we know if the victims had any link? Same university, same friends, same place of living?"

Keeping his eyes on Emily as he saw her frown, Hotch leaned forward and pressed the call button. In a matter of seconds, the technical analyst appeared on the screen, ready to give whatever information was needed to fuel the team's brainstorming.

"Yes, boss man, my fingers are all ready to do their magical dance." She said brightly, already turning to the screen of her computer.

"Garcia, I need you to look for any link between the four victims. University or workplace shouldn't be too hard to find – widen the search to their social networks to find out whether they had any friends in common. Check their address also."

"Will do. I can also check the history of their credit cards to see if they go to the same dry cleaning service, bank or café…" she said absent-mindedly although her mind was already busy with the research.

"You're the best, thank you." Hotch said, looking at his colleagues. The search would obviously take a few moments, even with the blonde's abilities. He took a moment to observe his colleagues. Derek had stood up and made his way to the kitchenette, to refill their mugs of coffee with freshly brewed liquid. They would need the energy – after all, they had just come back from a draining case, only to be thrown into a new one. JJ was gathering her files, looking for any new information that might have escaped her attention. As for Emily, she was leaning back her head against the seat and fighting to keep her eyes open and her mind focused, which disturbed Hotch much more than he knew it should. So, when the brunette opened her eyes abruptly, as though she had known she was being watched, he quickly turned his gaze away. Since last night, he somehow felt very uneasy around her, and deep inside, he knew that he saw the reflection of his own mother. Still, it was unfair to let his feelings and attitude towards Emily Prentiss take the blow of his inner demons.

"What about the word that he engraves?" Morgan's voice echoed from the little kitchenette, where he was filling one more mug for the blonde liaison agent.

"He calls them 'liars'. In reference to what?" Rossi responded. "To their social status? Their innocence?"

"As I said earlier, they are the perfect daughters: good at school, pursuing high studies, even volunteering in local associations…" JJ's voice drifted away to make clear that the list was too long to be recited exhaustively.

"So he knows – or thinks he knows – something that would break off their image of perfection?" Emily asked. She was interrupted by Garcia's face lightening up the screen again.

"Research done, my friends. There are not many links that can be made between our different victims. Surely, two of them were attending the University of Pennsylvania, but in two different sections. None of them actually had a side job – the parents are well off, if I might add. The only thing they got in common really is that they had a nice private apartment on their respective campus, be it UPenn, Temple University or Saint Joseph's. I still have not run through the whole history of credit card use…"

"Okay, keep us posted." Hotch called out.

"Garcia, can you maybe check in local police archives if the victims were ever suspect in a case? I know they have a clean record, but maybe it didn't go until the arrest." Emily added before the analyst cut the call.

"Right away, dark princess… By the way, is that an optical trick or are you slowly turning into Elephant man?" Emily closed her eyes. She had forgotten that there was still one person on the team who was not aware of the little incident. Although her way of asking the dreadful question was far more fun than her other colleagues' reaction earlier.

"Let's say I had a little _incident_. Tripped over my feet and crashed my head in a table…" Garcia seemed to hesitate and search for a clue on Derek's or Rossi's face, but the look in her eyes told Emily that she knew it was a bold lie.

"Alright… You'll have a proper interrogation when you come back, beautiful." With that, she was gone again. Emily raised her eyes to meet the questioning gaze of Hotch. He was suddenly not sure whether she had told the truth to the others. Maybe he had made a mistake confiding in Rossi?

"Local police is waiting for us already. Detective Granger is our contact." JJ said, looking at her colleagues.

"Okay, JJ and I will go straight to the station to meet with the authorities. Prentiss and Morgan, you go to see the ME and get more information about the autopsies. Reid and Rossi, you go and see the families of the latest victims. We'll join you to finish off the job." Hotch said, looking at each of his agents as he was pronouncing their name.

They all nodded and went back to their usual activities. They still had twenty minutes left before landing, which was just enough to take a break and relax before throwing themselves heads first into work. As soon as Morgan had sat down in his seat, he screwed earplugs into his ears to shut himself off of the rest of the world. JJ continued reviewing the case to get ready for dealing with the local authorities as well as the media. Reid and Rossi silently agreed to share a quick chess game – contrarily to their colleagues, they needed the concentration to relax rather than empty their minds. Hotch was about to dive into the depths of the files like his blonde colleague, when he saw Emily make her way to the kitchenette for a refill in coffee. Seeing this as a good opportunity to talk to her in private, the dark-haired man waited for a couple of minutes before walking to the front of the jet as well.

"Coffee?" Without even turning, the brunette seemed to have noticed her superior's presence – or maybe she had expected his move.

"Yeah, thanks." He waited for the mug to be filled and clutched in his hands, nodding thankfully to his colleague. "I was wondering… what did you tell the others?"

Emily suppressed a sigh before turning to face Hotch. She knew it would take some time and patience before she could convince her colleagues that she was fine, but she was growing quickly tired of justifying her every move.

"Hotch… Can we get over this?"

"It's just… Honestly, I told the truth to Rossi when he asked. I didn't know you wanted to be a secret…"

"Be reassured, I don't. I just thought it was better if I told Garcia face to face rather than through the screen and in front of everyone." She tried to raise an annoyed look to Hotch, but failed somehow, surely because of the huge bruise in the corner of her left eye. The man suddenly felt the need to reach forward and make contact – a hand on her shoulder would have been enough to reassure him, but it already seemed out of the line, so he resisted.

"Oh." He simply said, lowering his gaze to the filled mug and dark liquid. Emily gently patted his arm before brushing past him to get back to her seat. She knew that Hotch was concerned – the regular looks he greeted her with were unmistakable, as was his decision to keep her away from the victims. In normal circumstances, the meeting with the ME could have waited and he would have split the four field agents between the four families to cover more ground. But he obviously wanted to protect the grieving families from yet another trace of violence – or maybe protect Emily herself from dealing with pain so soon. Although it was a sweet gesture, the brunette couldn't help getting sour at the thought of being drawn away from field work.

xxx

The SUV parked in front of the medical center and Emily slammed the door before turning to wait for her colleague Derek Morgan. They had a lot of work ahead, going over the results for four autopsies – no time to waste, especially as the killer was believed to strike again pretty soon. The brunette couldn't help thinking that they would not find much in this interrogation. She would much rather be interrogating families or going ahead on the profile with the help of Garcia's tricks. Suppressing a sigh, she followed Morgan inside the dark and unwelcoming building, frowning when the cell in her breast pocket began to vibrate.

"I'll be right behind." She called out, walking back to the natural light to see the caller ID. Not recognizing the number, she flipped the little device open, closing her eyes at the sudden brightness as she walked onto the pavement.

"Prentiss." Her voice was cold and professional.

"Emily? Don't hang up." She wished she had not taken the call after all, as she recognized Dean's voice. They had after all talked more often over the phone than in real life, with her crazy work hours and regular flights.

"I thought I had been clear." She said, hoping he would get the message. She didn't really want to start being rude or shout like a madman in the middle of the street.

"I wanted to apologize."

"Little late for that, sorry." With that, Emily ended the conversation and turned her heels to follow Morgan in the autopsy room. She did not really have time – or the nerves, for that matter – for personal fights right now.

Before she could even reach the right room to take part to the interrogation, her phone vibrated again, and the same number appeared. Since she couldn't really turn off the engine – Hotch would kill her, no doubt – she dug it deeper into her pocket and ignored the repeated vibrations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Thanks for the reviews – and for noticing my little mix-up in names. So the bad guy's name is really Dean, I will keep it to that from now on…**

**Chapter 4: Revelations and dead-ends**

David Rossi was pacing around the huge living room, waiting for Mrs. Pattern to come back with the promised lemonade. It was a little early for sugary drinks, but neither man had the courage to refuse such a soft offer. They had gladly accepted it, knowing it was an excuse for the poor woman to flee from the room and let the tears out in the privacy of her kitchen. Robert Pattern, elegant man in his fifties, had not moved from his spot on the couch, oblivious to the nervous state of Rossi. Reid shot him a deadly glance –one more minute and he would certainly grab his arm and force the man to finally sit down – and his eyes lit up when he saw Jennifer Pattern come back with a tray full of glasses and a bottle of prepared lemonade.

"Thank you, Madam." Rossi said with a soft tone, finally taking a seat near his colleague. The woman nodded and began filling the glasses for her two guests, who waited for her to finish before getting on with their interrogation.

"So, Detective Granger already told us that you are here because our Lindsay was not the first one…" the man began, less impressed by the FBI agents than his wife.

"That's right, M. Pattern. Your daughter was unfortunately the third victim to the same killer, it seems."

"It seems?"

Reid shot another glance to his elderly colleague. "We are pretty certain of it."

"Were they… too?" The man stuttered, obviously speaking of the MO without finding the right words. Tears welled up in his eyes when the young doctor nodded in response, at the mere thought of the violated body of his 22 years old daughter.

"What can we do to help?" To everyone's surprise, Jennifer Pattern seemed to have regained some composure and was now staring blankly at the two agents, offering her help.

"Well, we are trying to find what links the different victims, including your daughter. Can you tell us a little about her activities – in and outside university?" Reid continued, clutching the lemonade glass with boss hands.

The couple hesitated, and it was the husband who finally took the lead.

"Well, she was a very normal student. She went to her classes, studied a lot at the library or in her own apartment. Sometimes, she would come over here to get more calm…"

"Was she living with someone?"

"No, she had her private apartment on the campus, but we all know it's not the most calm place in town, so she often retreated to her own room here on weekends or before exams."

Rossi nodded, leaving the questions to his younger colleague for the moment. He could use the opportunity to be in the Pattern house to observe the household a little. They seemed to be well-off, given the pretty furniture and paintings hanging on the wall, or the crystal glasses Jennifer Pattern had served the cold beverage in.

"Can I show you a few pictures, and you tell me if you ever saw these girls?" Reid continued, putting on the glass table the three portraits before any of the parents could answer.

"No… No, I'm sorry, I don't recognize any of them." The husband answered first.

"Me neither." Jennifer continued, her eyes still set on the portraits of these beautiful young women. "Are these…?"

"Yes, they were killed too. I am sorry to make you go through this again." Reid raised soft eyes to the couple, who nodded and waited for the next question.

"Do you know if Lindsay had a boyfriend?"

"No, she hadn't. She broke out of a long relationship four months ago."

"Long relationship?" Rossi finally joined the conversation when he felt the uneasiness in Jennifer's voice.

"Lindsay had been with Mark for almost two years. Then they split, without much an explanation."

The two profilers shared an understanding glance.

"What did she say to explain this sudden change?"

The blonde mother seemed to hesitate. She was clutching her glass of lemonade as strong as she could, as though the device was her lifeline.

"Not much. She said that Mark had met another girl. Which I find highly unlikely, but I didn't want to push her…"

"Why do you say that?"

The woman paused and leaned a little forward, as a sign of her seriousness.

"This boy was head over heels for our girl. Everyone could see it. Do you think that's important?"

Reid cleared his throat, taking out his notepad.

"Maybe. Can you maybe give us the full name of Mark?"

xxx

JJ turned her heels and left the two local officers to themselves. From the corner of her eye, she could already see the crowd of journalists making the beeline in front of the station. They had obviously linked A to B very quickly and had raised all flags about a serial killer on the loose. The blonde couldn't help feeling glad to be inside already – her colleagues on the field would no doubt go through hell before getting into the building.

"… dry cleaner, cafés, bakery, bank... I checked everything I could," The technical analyst's voice echoed through the conference room. "Not a single place comes across all the files. The same bar's name and the campus cafeteria appear a couple of times, but that's about it."

JJ looked towards Hotch, who was leaning forward on the round table and registering every word of their colleague, back in DC. To say he did not look pleased was a gross understatement.

"What about the police files Emily asked about earlier?"

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, before Penelope Garcia continued her report.

"Well, our raven beauty had a good feeling about this: Lindsay Pattern indeed was witness in a case of aggravated assault. And guess who was the victim? Marion Bayers." JJ smiled, imagining the brightness on her friend's face at the moment she announced the results. Hotch though did not smile.

"Garcia, send everything you have on that case. What was the name of the assaulter?"

Asking the question, the man already grabbed a pen and walked to the board, finding an empty space in between the names of the four victims.

"Richard Greesome, age 24 at the time – now 26." The answer resonated after a moment.

"Where is he now?"

"He spent merely three months in Pennsylvania State Facilities and has been in and out really, since then… Oh."

The dark-haired agent turned around briskly, throwing flames at the phone as though it could bring Garcia to deliver the information more rapidly.

"He died two months ago from an overdose."

"Oh." Hotch mimicked, putting the pen back onto the conference table. Another dead-end.

"Sorry, sir. What next?"

The man took a moment to think, his eyes boring holes into the board and the numerous pictures pinned on it.

"Concentrate on Penny Richardson. If she triggered the change in MO, maybe she had some more relation to the unsub than the other victims." The last sentence was meant for JJ rather than the analyst, who already had begun her research. "Social network, criminal history, you know the drill."

"Get back to you." Penelope called out before hanging up, leaving Hotch and JJ alone in the closed room. The blonde had taken a seat at the round table and was crossing her arms over her chest.

"The press is outside, waiting for all the little pieces we can feed them…" she said a little sarcastically.

Hotch raised his tired eyes, searching for a strategy.

"You look tired." The comment had slipped off JJ's tongue before she knew it, and she was glad when her superior did not snap back.

"I didn't have much sleep last night." For the man who usually kept every private detail for himself, this was a big confession. Could JJ take this as an invitation to dig deeper?

"Emily?"

Surprise after surprise, Hotch did not snap back at this question either, although this was undoubtedly off the line. The blonde liaison even thought for a moment that she saw his face soften.

"I am worried about her." He simply said, his eyes now fixed on the perpetual movement behind the glass doors by the crowd of police officers.

"So are we. Did she say anything to you?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed, as he pondered whether to let JJ in the confession. After all, she was Emily's friend and a woman. Maybe she could get through to the brunette better than he did. Although, if Emily discovered that he had confided into yet another person, she might just close all doors for him to come through.

"No, not really. This will have to wait our return anyway."

JJ nodded and looked for a moment at her hands. It didn't take to be a great profiler to see that Hotch was keeping something back. Then again, when wasn't he? The head agent always had an awful lot on his mind and shared only the tip of the iceberg with his colleagues.

"So, the press?"

"I'd like to wait for the others to come back and the victimology to be a little more precise before letting out any important information. What do they know already?"

"Well, they know that the same unsub probably killed all four girls. They know about the rape and the MO, though the engraved word was kept a confidential detail."

Hotch's eyes travelled to the windows, from where the ever growing crowd of journalists could be seen.

"It's better we keep it out of the media. It wouldn't help the case if we had a copycat from diverting our attention. Plus, if the unsub wants to give out a message by his murders, his ego might just be fueled by this extra attention – we don't need that."

"I thought maybe we could make a general statement of caution towards female students. After all, he might already be hunting…"

With the years, JJ had learnt to anticipate her superior's demands. So she took his nod for an agreement and walked out to finally confront the local media. Just as she was disappearing, an angry voice reached the room, and Hotch raised his head to see Emily and Derek walk in.

"If you had let me, Morgan…"

"I know, I know. But throwing your coffee at him was not the best idea." The man answered with a smirk, giving an understanding look to Hotch.

"The guy almost walked over me to get through the door, he's lucky I couldn't reach for my gun…"

Hotch would have burst out in laughter if they had not been standing right in the middle of the police station. Emily Prentiss could be a clown sometimes.

"I told you we should have taken the back entrance." She continued to mutter, taking her jacket off and throwing it on the back of a chair. "Now, no coffee and a ruined shirt."

The brunette indeed had a big stain of brown liquid on the lower part of her blue shirt. Suppressing a laughter, Hotch cleared his throat to bring them back to reality.

"Any results with the ME?"

Derek sat down with his own cup of coffee and started: "Well, he confirmed that the first two victims had been suffocated. He found traces of fabric encrusted around their throat."

"He didn't use his hands? Interesting." This made the change from second to third victim even more drastic, thought Hotch. "No contact with the first two."

"But he _raped_ them… Surely that can be considered as a contact." Emily spat almost in disgust, as she had come to stand across from Hotch.

"On that particular point, maybe it is more about power than sex. What else?" Hotch said, not even greeting her with a look. The image of his mother's beaten face came to his mind like a bad dream whenever he met Emily's eyes.

"Apparently, GHB was not the only drug found in the victims' toxic exam…" Derek's voice trailed off as he was getting out a piece of paper. He unfolded it with one hand and handed it over to his superior for him to see the long list. "Ecstasy, even heroin, but mainly hard drugs which you can get with a prescription, like pain killers or pills against high tension."

"I think we finally found the point in common for the victims." Hotch said, his eyes scanning the different toxic exam results.


	5. Chapter 5

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Please excuse any mistakes as English is a foreign language for me.**

**Chapter 5: Unexpected guest**

"… In the meantime, I would advise all female students to be very cautious. Try not to walk around alone in the evening or night, lock your doors and do not to give personal information away via social networks and such. We are collaborating with the local police to bring an end to these murders as quickly as possible."

The whole team was gathered in the conference room, around the little TV that Detective Granger had shipped into the premises for them. They were watching the press conference from this discreet corner, looking at the serious face of JJ who seemed very frail in comparison to the bright-shouldered Eric Granger. When she seemed to be finished and the first journalist called out his question, Aaron Hotchner used the remote control to turn off the screen, and turned to his colleagues.

"So, all our victims seemed to lead a pretty ordinary – even model – life on campus. But we now know that each of them had a recent drug history."

"None of them had ever been in a desintoxication center or been hospitalized because of their addiction, though." Morgan added, having gone over the same points with Penelope Garcia not two hours before.

"Which means they were hiding their problem very well." Reid intervened, looking to Rossi for confirmation. "No parent we talked to has mentioned this problem."

"None of these girls had a side job. Where do young women like that get the drugs – or the money to buy it?" Hotch asked. All of his agents were sitting at the table, but he was still standing at the other end of the room, his hands dug into his pockets. Pacing from right to left in his corner, he seemed a little agitated.

"First of all, the parents are well-off. They could easily have provided them with the money." Emily declared, her eyebrows wrinkled in concentration.

"Their daughters were leading an ordinary life, had a rent to pay and so on. They would have had to justify any extra spending." Reid answered automatically. "Plus, Garcia said there were no unusual financial movements on their accounts in the last months."

"Well, then it wasn't actually the _money_ they borrowed from their parents." Emily put extra weight on the last part of the sentence, making a few eyebrows rise.

"Where are you heading to?" Hotch said, still looking at some imaginary object on the table instead of Emily.

"Do you know this new trend of 'medication parties'?" Emily paused, seeking Hotch's attention in vain. "Teenagers take the meds of their parents, mix all the pills in a bowl and randomly take them to get high."

"You think they steal the pills from their parents?" Morgan looked over the table.

"That would explain why there are no financial movements."

"But if it stays in the family, how would the unsub know about this?" Everyone looked up at Rossi's comment. He was right. Everything made sense to explain the drug history of the victims and why they were called 'liars' by the unsub. But the way he knew about this 'family secret' still was a mystery. And this didn't help them either to identify the next potential victim.

Emily closed the glass door behind her and made her way across the bullpen towards the coffee machine. It had been difficult to avoid the different officers' curious stares all day, but they seemed to have gotten used to her beaten up face by now. After all, it was part of the police – or FBI, for that matter – work to get injured sometimes. The brunette poured herself a full mug and took the occasion of being alone to check her cell phone. She suppressed a whistle when she saw five missed calls, all from the number that had become all too familiar. Emily closed her eyes, pondering whether she should listen to the vocal messages. But this was not the time, as she was reminded when JJ brushed past her to join the team.

"Hey… Out for a coffee break?" The blonde stopped in her tracks, looking distrustfully at her colleague.

"Yeah. Good job out there." Emily forced a smile although she could not quite hide the uneasiness on her face.

"Everything alright?" Apparently, the brunette was not doing such a good job hiding her bad emotions after all. At that moment, both women were interrupted by the ringtone of Emily's phone, for the seventh time that day. Without even looking, Emily ended the call and dug the device into her trouser pocket. JJ's eyes narrowed at the strange attitude of her friend.

"Who was that?"

Emily paused, opening her mouth to say something and stopping abruptly. Her eyes wandered in the distance, towards the conference room where the rest of the team seemed to be very busy.

"He's been calling non-stop today…" She finally said in a whisper, her irritation obvious on her features.

"Your ex?" JJ pursed her lips. She didn't quite know how to name him, since Emily had not confided into anyone about the details. When the brunette didn't respond, JJ took a step forward and locked her gaze with Emily's.

"Emily, you have to trust us. Who _is_ this guy?"

"JJ, I don't think it's the time…"

"Emily." JJ's tone left no choice. The woman would use all her physical power to keep her colleague from going back to the team before she had fed her with at least some details.

"Can we talk about this later, please? I really think we should be concentrating on the case." With one swift move, Emily was out of her friend's grasp and walking back to the conference room, under the scrutiny of Derek.

xxx

Reid knocked for the third time on the heavy door, listening carefully for any movement inside. He looked over at David Rossi and was about to turn around when the door suddenly burst open. A young man in his early twenties revealed a surprised face. His hair was wet and he seemed to have hastily dressed into a shirt and jogging trousers.

"Yes?" he simply asked, raising an eyebrow when Rossi flashed his badge.

"Mark Fulton?" Reid asked, carefully pronouncing each syllable.

"Yes, that would be me. FBI? Is this some kind of joke?" The young man smiled sarcastically. Apparently he could not quite believe that two federal agents were standing on his door step.

"We need to talk to you about Lindsay Pattern, can we come in?" Rossi let Reid talk. His young age made it easier to identify with their witness, and he could therefore better get through to him. Soon, the two agents were invited in and offered a cup of coffee that they refused politely.

"I get it you know about Ms. Pattern's death?" Rossi asked, leaning forward and carefully reading every sign of emotion on Mark Fulton's face. From the sad look he was wearing, they could tell right away that he was grieving. Indeed, he nodded and waited for them to elaborate.

"We would like to ask you some questions."

"I already talked to the police." He answered after clearing his throat. While they had refused the coffee, the younger man had gone for a bottle of beer, although by the look on his face at each sip, you could tell that this was not a habit.

"We know that… We are not here because we suspect you." The young man exhaled a breath – Reid knew from a source that Mark Fulton had been among the suspects at the beginning of the case.

"Good. What do you want to know?"

"Why exactly you broke off with Lindsay four months ago. We talked to her parents, and they seemed not to understand the reason for this break up." Reid declared in a soft tone.

"Yes… I do not really want to talk about this, now that she is dead." He answered, uneasily.

"Did you discover her drug problems?" Rossi asked, locking with Mark's eyes. To their relief, the man sighed and his expression softened. Maybe they had a lead after all.

"I thought I knew everything about her… until that night." The two men did not interrupt. He seemed ready to talk, you just had to let the words flow. "She disappeared too often at night, saying she was going back to her parents to study. I started getting suspicious that she might see someone else, and I followed her to… this _place_… They were junkies everywhere. She didn't fit in the picture…" Mark paused, looking at his hands.

"What did you do?"

"I waited for her to come home. I didn't want to confront her in this horrible place. She _lied_ when she came back."

"Do you know what she was on?" Reid said carefully so as not to startle their witness. He seemed on the edge of breaking down, which was no wonder given the circumstances.

"You think her murder had something to do with…?" Mark's voice trailed off. He seemed oblivious to Reid's questions, being caught in his story.

"We do not rule anything out for the moment." Rossi answered. He paused, before adding: "Was she buying, when you followed her?"

"Yes and no. I think she was exchanging drugs with someone."

Reid and Rossi exchanged a look. These girls were hiding their game very well. Not only were they addicts, but they even fueled the traffic. Liar suddenly seemed an appropriate word.

"I know it's some time back… Did you notice any one in particular, who might have watched or followed her?" Reid asked.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember all the details of that night which would undoubtedly never leave his mind. But his look of concentration soon was replaced by disappointment.

"Sorry, I… I was concentrated on Lindsay. I did not look anywhere else until I was safely back in my car."

"That's okay, it doesn't matter. Can you tell me where this was?"

"Sure." The man sipped one more time at his bottle of beer, grabbing the phone book which was lying under the coffee table. He flipped the pages until he found the appropriate map and pointed to the district. Reid thanked him with a nod and left the two men to pass over the information.

xxx

Aaron Hotchner hung up the phone and turned to the two women. JJ was concentrated on her lap top, probably going over the news to check what information the media was letting out, and what her words were being turned into. As for Emily, she was sitting on the edge of the table and boring holes into the board with her eyes. Hotch had chosen to keep her at the station to continue on victimology, an odd choice in her opinion. Emily Prentiss was a field agent. She went to speak to victims and interrogate suspects. Reid and Rossi were the ones to do victimology, to sit around in the conference room and fill the board with crazy notes. But today, for an obvious reason, Aaron Hotchner had chosen to send Spencer, Derek and David to interrogate witnesses.

"Reid has a lead." Hotch declared when he had ended the conversation. Without saying one more word, he dialed a new number and waited for Garcia's voice to echo.

"Yes, boss man? Long time no see…"

"Garcia, how far back can you go in CCTV cameras?"

"Tapes are automatically erased and recorded over every week. That doesn't really help… does it?" Garcia calculated that the first murder went back two months already. Far too old to still find any clue on a public security camera.

"No, it doesn't. Listen, I'm going to send you an address. I need you to check the nearby security cameras anyway. Look for our latest victim, and send us all the footage where she appears."

"Okay, will do."

Hotch pressed the end button and raised his eyes towards the brunette, who had not said a word. She obviously waited for an explanation.

"Mark Fulton, our latest victim's ex-boyfriend, confirmed that Lindsay had drug problems. Apparently, her house medication was no longer enough, and she went regularly to the north-east district of Philadelphia to get some more. Probably heroin or ecstasy."

"This part of town is a hot spot for drug dealing." The estranged voice of Eric Granger resonated from the conference room's door. He had joined them silently to give his appreciation. "We have an entire unit dedicated to field work there. Prevention, infiltration and so on… It's a real mess, to be honest. Lots of empty warehouses and unconstructed sites, a difficult terrain for police work."

"And it's the ideal place for our unsub: if he finds his victims there, he can be sure that the only witnesses will not collaborate with the police." Emily intervened, turning an appreciative glance to the detective. "No social life, involvement in illegal activities, maybe not even a legal existence in our country. They do not want to be noticed and will therefore turn a blind eye on everything that happens in these streets…"

Hotch nodded, looking back at the giant map that was pinned on a second board. If Reid had been there, he would probably have made out the geographical profile in a few seconds. However, this exercise proved much more difficult to the other team members.

"We're still walking on eggshells. We don't even know whether the other victims were frequenting this area of the city as well."

"Where are Reid and Rossi heading to?" JJ asked, raising her eyes from her lap top.

"Back to the other families. But I guess they won't probably have a clue about their daughters' nightly activities. In fact, our best hope is that Garcia finds some trace on the security cameras that might confirm our theory." Hotch answered absent-mindedly, still looking at the map.

Emily observed for a moment her superior's profile. His eyebrows were even more furrowed than usually, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming apparent because of all the worry. This case proved to be more difficult and complex with each hour passing by. Although the similarity in the victims' profile and the proximity of the murders could make it look like a fairly ordinary case, they had needed some time to realize that there were several levels to consider. The night would probably be long, she said to herself, absently looking at the mural clock to note that it was past eight in the evening. They had not even paused to have some lunch.

Suddenly, her eye was caught by a silhouette appearing at the other end of the bullpen. The man seemed to have just walked in and to be looking for someone. When their eyes met, Emily had a hard time hiding her surprise. As discreet as possible, she stood up from her comfortable position and mumbled an excuse before leaving the room, well aware of her colleagues' eyes following her moves. As she approached the man, she tried to look past the mask of guilt. She couldn't be drawn into that game once again, the game of pity and forgiveness.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Dean raised innocent eyes – he really was good, couldn't help thinking Emily with a hint of sarcasm.

"I… I had to see you. Since you're not talking over…"

"No. I want to know what you are doing in Philadelphia. How did you know I was here?" Emily's voice cut sharp into the conversation. It took all her willpower to keep her voice down to avoid the officers' attention.

"I called your office. And I saw your colleague on TV at noon…" As Emily's eyes were boring holes into Dean's face, a thousand questions ran through her head. The BAU would never give information about their units' activities – unless he had fed a stupid secretary with a lie about an emergency or familial matter. And how did this man recognize JJ when she had never even talked about him to her colleagues? But, fore and foremost, why had Dean followed her all the way to Philadelphia just to… _talk_ to her? Deciding that the situation was getting a little out of control, the brunette grabbed her visitor's arm and pulled him towards the exit without much restraint. She ignored the curious look she got from the detective she almost ran over on her way to the elevator.

xxx

Back in the conference room, Aaron Hotchner and Jennifer Jareau had not missed a bit of the scene displaying under their eyes. The blonde liaison agent had rarely seen such a fire in Emily's eyes when she had stormed out of the conference room. Hotch's eyes were all fixed on the man – he had not pictured the bastard hitting Emily like that. He seemed soft and almost friendly. But he knew better than anyone that a public face could be very misleading.

"Is this another member of your team?" Eric Granger, who had witnessed the concern and anger appear on Hotch's face, was a bit at loss.

"No, definitely not." The dark-haired agent answered absently, taking another step towards the door, waiting for a sign by Emily. When it did not come and the couple disappeared behind the elevator doors, Hotch looked briefly at JJ – who seemed even more surprised and worried than he was – and walked decidedly through the bullpen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing**

**Chapter 6: Behind the mask**

The brunette stormed out of the elevator without even waiting the doors to completely open. Her eyes wandered around her and she was glad to see that no police officer was around. She wasn't really one to make a scene in front of anyone, and the parking lot was therefore the perfect place to have this conversation. Turning around to face the man, she tried not to shout in his face too loud.

"What are you thinking, coming all the way to Philadelphia?" she spat. "Are you _stalking _me?"

A thousand questions were burning to get out, but she had to keep some semblance of control, Emily reminded herself. The man looked genuinely at her.

"Stalking you? I just wanted to have a proper explanation…"

"There is nothing to explain, Dean. You hit me, and I don't need that kind of things in my life besides the job."

Dean seemed to hesitate, although she could already see anger building up inside of him. Part of her hoped that he would cross the line again – she would be very happy to put him behind bars if he raised one more hand on her.

"The job, that's exactly the problem…" he hissed. "You have seen so many things and dealt with so many bad guys that you can't even forgive anymore!"

"There is no excuse for being violent." She spat in return, holding his gaze as long as she could. He reached forward and Emily stepped back, avoiding the contact. Seeing her reaction, Dean's face softened, as he raised both hands in front of him and added:

"Emily, can't you see I'm in love with you? I don't want us to end this way…"

The brunette swallowed and allowed herself a pause, to gather her composure. How was she supposed to reason with someone who was living out of reality?

"Dean. We are not married, and barely know each other in fact. It's been very nice, but you put an end to it the moment you let your anger out at me…" She tried to make it sound like a statement rather than a demand. After all, she didn't owe him anything – not even an explanation.

"It's been _nice_, Emily? I've put up with your crazy hours, have been waiting for you in the middle of the night until you had some time…" His voice was getting angry again, and he even took a step forward, causing Emily to flinch. "I think I've made enough concessions, but I have _needs_ as well."

"That's not the point." She answered without thinking. "I don't want to go further into this. You're lucky I didn't file in a claim for assault." The finger she raised at these last words seemed to throw her adversary over the edge. He brushed a hand over his face and let the anger sink in before he did anything stupid.

"Oh, because you're FBI, right? That doesn't give you the right to treat me like shit!"

The brunette didn't say anything for a moment, her eyes trying to read Dean's face. She could see anger obviously, but what scared her most was the determination in his features. Contrarily to their previous fight, it was nothing sudden or unexpected. It wasn't just the heat of the moment. Dean Johnson would get violent each time they would argue, she could already see the craziness in his eyes. He hadn't even reacted when he had seen the extent of her injuries – no remorse, no understanding. Only rage.

"Okay, we're done here, I need to get back to work."

Just when she brushed past him, the elevators' doors opened again, ready to ship Emily back to the bullpen. But Dean was obviously not finished with his explanations, and he grabbed the brunette's arm without much care, to stop her from running. Slowly turning around, Emily let her eyes wander from the man's hand to his angry face. If looks could kill, Dean Johnson would be long dead.

"Let go of her arm." Hotch's voice resonated from the elevator. He had just stepped out to witness the last words of Emily, and her boyfriend's very inappropriate gesture.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean spat out, although he loosened his grasp for Emily to slip out of it.

"Aaron Hotchner, this is Dean Johnson." Emily intervened. As glad as she was to see her friend and supervisor step in, she was not about to lose control over the situation. She wasn't some damsel in distress over which two men would fight.

"The famous Aaron Hotchner…" Dean whispered, with a smirk. Hotch's eyes narrowed at the indelicate tone.

"I can't quite return the compliment." He simply said, holding his gaze and seeing with satisfaction Dean's face fuming with anger. "Are you alright?" Hotch's eyes were now directed at Emily.

"Yes, Dean was about to leave. Come on."

Stepping back into the elevator, Emily waited for her friend to join her, praying during the few seconds he hesitated that he would not just go and begin a fight with Dean. But Hotch was more intelligent than that. The brunette pressed firmly the button, avoiding eye-contact with Dean until the doors had closed. She was not a bit surprised when Hotch leaned forward and brought the elevator to a stop.

"You're not letting this go, are you?" she asked without turning around, although she could feel Hotch's eyes boring holes into her side.

"Emily, talk to me. Everyone's very concerned."

"I know." She sighed, fighting the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She felt vulnerable at the moment. Although Dean had not exactly hurt her this time, it had happened in front of a witness, and this was almost more difficult to bear for Emily. "Should I thank you for saving me?" she asked with a sarcastic tone, which did not go unnoticed by Hotch.

"You obviously didn't need to be saved. Actually I think I saved him from you…"

Despite the circumstances, Emily couldn't suppress a smirk, and she finally locked gaze with Hotch, who was looking softly at her.

"True." She said.

"Let me get this straight – he followed you to Philadelphia to… what? Talk to you?"

"I guess so." They exchanged a questioning gaze. This attitude was indeed incomprehensible.

"Did you tell him where you were heading to?" Honestly, he could not remember a single moment when Emily Prentiss could have been alone to make this phone call, prior to their take off.

"God, no! He says he called the office, although I can't imagine anyone giving him this kind of information…" She said to herself, looking at the doors in front of her.

Hotch's eyes lingered a few moments on her face. Apart from flushed cheeks and wet eyes, she looked physically okay. But he knew by experience that Emily Prentiss was very good at hiding her true emotions.

"It's okay to be scared, you know." Emily held her breath when she heard the words, not sure about how to respond, or whether she should respond at all. But she would obviously not come out of this elevator until she had fed him with some information – and, even though she was no claustrophobic, being stuck in a tiny elevator with your boss was not an experience you would want to last.

"I am not scared, Hotch. I am angry." She finally said, looking straight into his eyes. At this point, she did no more care about the tears threatening to fall. It wasn't as though Aaron Hotchner had never seen her on the edge of tears before. As he stared blankly at her, Emily understood that she had to elaborate on that.

"I am angry at myself for letting someone drag me into that situation." She stumbled, oblivious to the look of shock on Hotch's face. "I am a trained FBI agent, plus I spend my days profiling strangers and anticipating their next move. Why didn't I do it with my own boyfriend?"

As she seemed finished, Hotch cleared his throat without taking his eyes off her.

"Because it's your private life – and it would be insane to try and analyze every person in your life."

Emily nodded although she was far from convinced by his argument.

"This man was not an unsub, Emily. You had no reason to treat him like a criminal and 'anticipate his next move'."

"Yeah, that proves your point." The brunette snapped, pointing at her bruised face. When she saw Hotch frown, her expression softened a little. "Sorry, I shouldn't take my anger out at you."

An awkward silence fell between the two, and the dark-haired man suddenly felt the urge to get out this elevator, away from Emily. He had opened up in the last two days more than in the past months, and this vulnerability scared him at once.

"Is that why you don't let anyone in?" Emily heard herself say without really registering it.

"Excuse me?" For a moment, she thought she had crossed the line, but Hotch's face told her that it was a genuine question. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Sometimes I think we are all doomed to celibacy and solitude." She continued, trying to make her statement more general. "How can you let anyone into your life when you are trained to be paranoid?"

Hotch paused, lost in deep reflection.

"Well, JJ and Garcia prove the contrary."

"They are not really on the field, like we are." Emily frowned at her own words. She had never made a difference between herself and her female colleagues – but maybe there was a difference. They were less exposed.

"I guess you just have to find someone who understands and is ready to put up with your demons."

Emily's eyes widened at the honesty of his words. They all had their inner demons, their regular nightmares and existential questions arising. They were confronted to death much more often than others. Maybe it was only justice to attract the bad guys instead of the sweet ones? As though reading her mind, Hotch reached for his colleague's shoulder to get her attention, as her gaze had once again shifted away.

"I'd like to have a background check on this guy. Would you give me your authorization?"

He had wanted to ask this question for the past hours, but couldn't decide himself. Emily Prentiss would probably kill him if he went behind her back and had Garcia dig out dirty secrets on the man. He was glad when the brunette actually paused, considering his offer.

"I think we should concentrate on the case for now. When we are back in DC, I'll talk with Garcia myself." She finally said. It was probably wrong to drag her superior more into her personal problems than he already had been.

xxx

It was well past ten when Reid and Morgan came back to the police station. David Rossi had volunteered to drive over at the motel to confirm that their rooms were booked and available, whatever late hour they would chose to call it a day. When Derek parked the SUV right in front of the police station, he was satisfied to find that the journalistic presence had narrowed down to a couple of men with cameras and microphones. Either they had grown tired, or they were satisfied with JJ's provisory declaration earlier. They easily made their way into the building, Reid carefully carrying the box with six paper cups from the nearby coffee shop.

"God we've been waiting for you…" Emily walked over to Reid, her eyes fixed on the tray of coffee cups – which made everyone smirk. Ever since she had joined the team, they had not been able to decide whose addiction was worse. Emily's probably topped them all, but she was narrowly followed by Derek Morgan and his 'latte with three sugars'. The man always had had a sweet tooth.

Reid gladly handed his treasure over to the brunette before taking a seat around the conference table, which had long been buried under tons of files and reports.

"Long night ahead, eh?" Eric Granger passed his head through the glass door, having seen the couple walk in. Reid lifted a cup for him to take.

"I brought one for you as well, thought you might want to change from that tasteless stuff…"

The detective smiled at him and took the cup from his hands.

"Actually, we could need your help here." Hotch intervened. He had taken his own coffee and put the cup on the edge of the table. No one on the team had ever understood how the head agent could drink his coffee cold like ice. A nasty habit, he would answer – the man would simply get too wrapped up in his work and forgot about the beverage until it had long run cold.

"We need to work on the geographical profile, and you know Philadelphia better than us."

Granger nodded and sat down on the edge of the table. The young doctor had already approached the giant map pinned to the board, and was observing the little flags that were probably indicating the dump sites. He sipped absently at his warm beverage and took one more moment to get his ideas straight before sharing them with the others.

"I already indicated the different dump sites on the map." JJ stated the obvious, pointing to the map while looking at the detective.

"All different, but maybe you can tell us a bit more about these neighborhoods?" Hotch looked over at the local representant as well, seeing that Reid had snapped back to reality and was marking dots on the map. To indicate what, they still had to find out.

"Well, the town center is over here…" The man came to stand next to Reid, who almost rammed into him in his agitation. "So I can at least say that all the dump sites are slightly off-centered… and mainly residential."

"Which means that there are less activities in broad daylight than in the city center. Since the four bodies were discovered in the evening, we could guess that the unsub used the tranquility of the day – when the inhabitants are at work – to dispose of the bodies without being seen." Emily said after gladly swallowing her first mouthful of coffee. Paradoxically, she needed the beverage to calm her nerves.

"He took a big risk…" Eric Granger remarked, looking strangely at the brunette. Dispose of the bodies in broad daylight to avoid attention? Sometimes he really didn't understand these profilers' theories.

"He likes the challenge?" She answered, although this was more an open question to her colleagues than an actual statement. "Or he is simply blinded by rage and does not want to keep the bodies with him."

"You are implying that he moved the bodies after the murders?" Hotch said, although his eyes were now fixed on Reid. "Reid?" The young man had indeed finished running around the map and scribbling on the paper.

"I indicated where the victims lived – there is no direct link with the dump sites. Victim 2 was found near the campus, but all the other locations seem random. From the interrogations we conducted with the family and friends, the first victim was last seen on the campus, going out of a class. The second was running errands in the city center, the third was seen leaving her home by a neighbor, and the last – Lindsay Pattern – had only left her parents' house." He recited, his eyes shifting regularly from the map to his audience. "In each case, the victims were unaccounted for during at least four hours prior to being found."

"That leaves not much time to find, hunt, kill them and move their body." Granger said, looking for some confirmation in the head agent's eyes.

"You're right. He probably killed the girls and immediately disposed of their bodies." Reid said, sipping at his hot coffee.

"That makes sense." Emily's eyes were set on the files in front of her. The mutilations on the bodies were awful, like the amount of violence used on the poor girls. And Emily couldn't help feeling touched by the fate of these girls having only just joined adulthood. Compartmentalize, Emily told herself, tearing her eyes away from the horrid pictures. "Given the violence used on the victims – at least three and four – the unsub clearly wants to annihilate the existence of these girls. Once he is finished letting his anger out, he wants them away from him, out of his sight."

JJ turned a curious eye at her colleague.

"Then why not simply walk away from the bodies? Why take them with him?" she asked.

Reid raised a finger, attracting everyone's attention. He had gotten down the road Emily had opened for him too quickly for the others.

"Because it's the place where he kills them that links all the victims, not the dump sites or even the neighborhoods where they live." With a quick step, he was back at the map and circling like a madman the northern district.

"I don't think we need Garcia digging out the security tapes after all – this neighborhood is at equal geographical distance from all the dump sites. That's why he moves them."

Turning around, he could see in the profilers' eyes that everyone had gotten the message, although he still wanted to say his theory aloud.

"He doesn't want the attention."

"Okay, so let me get this straight." Reid was cut in the midst of his explanation by Eric Granger and his questioning look. "He chooses his victims when they come to buy – or sell – their drug in the northern district. He follows them, rapes and kills them there where there is no witness, then ships over their body to a completely different part of the city to hide his traces?"

The doctor nodded, giving the man an approving smile. He had drawn a good summary of the situation.

"Though you make it sound very spontaneous." Emily cut in, locking with Hotch's gaze although her sentence was directed at the local policeman. "The whole ritual of _marking_ his victims shows us that the unsub knows the victim's life. He wants to show the world the paradox between their so perfect official life, and their dirty little secret." The brunette paused. "That would imply that he stalks his victims prior to their murder."

"She's right." Hotch said pensively, looking at his hands which were clutching the side of the table. "The man we are looking for lives or works in the northern district, where he first meets his future victims. But he is ordinary enough to fit into the women's normal environment – the university campus, for example."

Silence fell upon the group, just as David Rossi was walking through the door. He had a tired face from the whole driving around and confronting grieving families all day. When he saw that his colleagues were in the middle of a deep brainstorming, he stayed at the door without interrupting. Derek Morgan, who had been very quiet since he had arrived at the police station, greeted him with a smile before concentrating back on the exchange between Reid, Hotch and Emily. When it was obvious that everyone was too wrapped up in his theories to add anything, Eric Granger opened his mouth again:

"So do you think he's using? Or maybe he's one of the dealers who permanently stroll through that neighborhood."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "Honestly, we have to widen the search a little bit. Undercover policemen, social workers or local inhabitants could also fit the profile, even more so than someone who would also be involved in drug trafficking."

It wasn't until the words actually left his mouth and he saw the shock spread on Granger's face that Hotch realized the meaning of his statement. Had he not been distracted by his personal demons, he would probably have kept this information outside the local police. Now he could only hope that Eric Granger would be professional enough to put a priority to the case rather than his loyalty to a fellow unit. The tension in the room was so evident that Hotch preferred waiting for Granger's reaction. During the few seconds that this took, he ignored the surprised glances he received from all around the room.

"So what are you suggesting exactly?"

The head agent pursed his lips. A plan had already formed in his mind, though he still was unsure about how to really put it into practice.

"Barge into the premises would be counterproductive. Witnesses will probably run away from us, and we risk even scaring the unsub off – or bringing him to change his MO. I think we should send someone in undercover."

Granger nodded, looking at some random point on the wall. He was obviously considering Hotch's plan, although it was clear that his prior remark had pissed him off. Not that the FBI needed the detective's approval before sending someone in – but given that there were several undercover officers already on the field, it was best to play along with local rules.


	7. Chapter 7

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Thanks for all your reviews, they are alway greatly appreciated, as well as constructive criticism.**

**Chapter 7: Confessions**

Since they had arrived in Philadelphia, it was actually the first time Jennifer Jareau was glad for the glass walls separating the conference room from the bullpen. All day, these walls had made her feel like an animal in cage, as she put up with the glances of curiosity of the local officers while working. But now, she was glad for she could keep an eye on Eric Granger, just like Hotch had asked her. When the question had arisen, JJ had been too surprised to make any comment at her superior for the earlier slip of the tongue. Aaron Hotchner was a diplomat – under normal circumstances, the man would have bit his tongue before saying anything indelicate to the local representative of the police department. But since this whole case started, the head agent seemed under great stress – and burdened by a lack of sleep. Observing as the detective was talking to one of his colleagues in uniform, and scribbling down on his notepad, the blonde stretched and silently prayed that Eric Granger would not mess this one up. In the last hour, the bullpen had considerably emptied, and now only remained the five members of her team and four officers at the most, not including the head detective. JJ quickly stifled a yawn when she saw Rossi and Morgan walk in with yet another cup of coffee – this time, out of the machine.

"Where is everyone?" The younger agent asked, sitting down next to JJ.

"Hotch wanted a word with Emily. Or Emily with Hotch, I am not sure… And Reid went to the bathroom, but I would not be surprised if the poor thing fell asleep on his way there… The couch near the elevators seemed kind of comfy." The blonde agent smirked, rubbing her eyes to indicate that she was in no better shape than her younger colleague.

"This team is going nuts…" Derek muttered to himself, looking for the thousandth time to the board, where all the information on the case was gathered. "Have we finally reached an agreement on the undercover operation?"

"I think that's exactly what the little one-to-one chat is about…" JJ said sarcastically. They all had witnessed the clear disagreement between Hotch and Emily a few minutes before. Although everyone had agreed that an undercover operation would be the most efficient way to trace their unsub, the profilers had been surprised when Hotch had suggested that they brief a local female officer to jump in. They needed a female agent to attract the unsub's attention, and in Hotch's mind, neither JJ nor Emily really fit in the picture of a young drug addict. The chief unit had clearly ignored the raised eyebrows of Rossi and Emily, when he had shared his reasoning. Maybe he was right about the fact that JJ would not fit into the junky world. But Emily, with her pale skin, dark look and acting skills, would have had no problem getting into the role of a young business woman with drug problems. So, when Eric Granger had left the room to go through his personnel files and find the perfect match for this mission, Emily had asked to talk to Hotch.

"If they are not back in ten minutes, I'll go in with my gun and some back-up." Derek stated matter-of-factly, having picked up the tension between the two agents. Maybe they were indeed killing each other as they spoke.

xxx

Emily was pacing back and forth under the scrutiny of her chief unit. She was fuming of rage – but Emily Prentiss was too clever to let out her pure anger at Aaron Hotchner. And she knew that part of this rage was not directed directly at him, but only the by-product of her earlier encounter with Dean.

"Are you going to actually yell at me, Prentiss, or just make me go crazy by your pacing around?" He asked with a cold voice. As soon as he had used her surname, Emily knew that she would have a hard time to convince him. She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes, trying not to flinch despite the burning sensation in her left eye.

"I can do this, and you know it."

"I just think you are not the best person to take up this role." He said without a hesitation, which made Emily think that he had prepared to this fight.

"Bullshit." She muttered, holding his gaze. She knew he wouldn't hold her harsh words against her, because he was the one making it personal.

"No offense… but you're a bit old to play the student."

Emily paused and smirked sarcastically. It would indeed be difficult to convince him.

"You know damn well that this isn't about age. This is about social status. And I'm not _that_ old…" She felt obliged to add, faking to be hurt by his insinuation. Emily was satisfied when Hotch's lips moved to almost form a smile. Using the soft method would probably be the best idea.

"Hotch, I can handle myself, you know."

"I know that, and this has nothing…" Hotch began justifying but he was cut in the middle of his sentence as Emily raised a finger. It was a gross lie and she knew it.

"Hotch, under normal circumstances, never would you hesitate to put me on the frontline. You know I'm the best for that mission. I know the profile better than any local will ever do, I fit in the picture – okay, with a few more years but I really doubt the man will not leap at the opportunity if I fit all the other criteria – and I can defend myself." She paused but went on, when she saw that she would apparently get no answer yet. "You have no right to take what happened with Dean as an excuse to take me off the field. If it wasn't for my idiotic neighbor calling you and this prick showing up unexpected here, you wouldn't even know about the whole story."

When she was finished, Emily inhaled a long and calming breath. Getting things off her chest seemed the only way to let out some pressure – punching in a wall would probably be much more satisfying at her level of enragement, but it wouldn't help her physical shape to add a broken wrist to her battered face.

Hotch reflected for a moment before answering. It was pretty obvious not only to Hotch but to the whole team that his decision had been dictated by a personal concern, so he couldn't really give her any more of this 'bullshit', as she had nicely put it. So he decided to go for the honest answer.

"I honestly think that you are emotionally fragile for the time being – and it would be irresponsible of my side to put you in harm's way when I think you are not in your best state." His voice was soft so as to avoid another fight. But, knowing Emily Prentiss' character, this was utopian.

"Emotionally fragile? You must be kidding me." She hissed. "I am not the one putting my little personal problems over the case as a priority. Which makes me want to ask: why are _you_?"

Hotch was a little taken aback as Emily's voice turned from pissed into something softer, filled with concern. She had been aware of Hotch's sudden protectiveness, and had not yet put the finger on the exact reason of this attitude. Of course, he had always been a very concerned and responsible chief unit, and all his coworkers were aware of the fact that he would take a bullet for any of them. And yet, the way he was protecting Emily Prentiss and letting her situation get to his own nerves was new.

Hotch looked strangely at the brunette, as though he was looking for an appropriate answer on her face. It was out of the question for him to tell her about his mother, he quickly decided.

"You know very well that I can put my problems aside for the case's sake. This guy might already be hunting down another girl…" Emily said as it was clear that Hotch would not give her any answer. The last sentence seemed to work, as the dark-haired agent's eyes softened, and he pursed his lips in recognition.

"Okay. I am still not sure about…"

"Do you trust me?" A few months back, Emily would probably have turned her question into a statement about his lack of trust. But with the growing friendship and all they had gone through as a team, it would now be an insult to imply that.

"Of course." He would have added 'with my life' but stopped himself just in time.

"Then you know I will focus and do my best. Besides…" she had wanted to avoid this argument, but now she felt that it was necessary to settle the matter and finish to convince Hotch. "… I very well remember a certain chief unit throwing himself into work to forget about Foyet. So don't judge or patronize me."

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Emily simply walked away and back into the bullpen. She didn't quite know when this conversation had drifted from a merciless fight to yet another confession. Maybe she was becoming too close to Aaron Hotchner, she thought to herself, realizing that she had lost her ability to simply yell at him without any remorse. Over the last months, he had apparently become more than a cranky boss to her – he had become a friend whose opinion she cared for and whose disappointment she dreaded.

xxx

"Do we need to call an ambulance?"

Emily sent a deadly gaze in Derek's direction when he threw the joke at her. Although her level of anger had clearly dropped in the last minutes, she wasn't ready yet to fool around. Her colleague pursed his lips in apology and buried his face behind his mug of coffee, while Rossi and JJ exchanged strange looks.

"So, what now?" Rossi asked, looking at the brunette. Her whole body language was screaming 'leave me alone', but he simply couldn't help pushing.

"Now, we call it a night and get some sleep." Hotch's dark voice echoed through the room as he walked through the door. "Where's Reid?"

JJ looked through the bullpen, then at her watch, frowning. "I'm going to get him." When she left the conference room and was out of sight, she closed her eyes tiredly and sighed, glad that Hotch still had some pity for his teammembers. It was almost midnight now, and they had been on their feet since six that morning, not counting the rare hours of sleep that had punctuated the previous week. She needed some vacation – soon. The blonde smiled when she turned a corner and discovered Spencer Reid, seated on the comfortable couch and his head falling miserably forwards.

Back in the conference room, Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner were beginning to gather the files. The chief unit would probably bring some of them into his hotel room, as he usually did when they were out on a work trip.

"I am going to send Prentiss on the undercover mission. I already talked to Detective Granger."

Derek looked Rossi's way. He had figured as much when he had seen the interaction between Hotch and the head detective.

"It's a good decision." Derek bit his lip when Hotch raised a surprised glance in his direction. The man obviously wasn't looking for an approval – he was just informing them of his decision. Nevertheless, Derek Morgan had felt the urge to tell him his mind.

"When are you planning to send her in?" Rossi asked from his corner of the room.

"Since it's already late, we will have to wait tomorrow evening and hope that the unsub hasn't found another victim yet…" Hotch answered absently. He flinched when Emily walked through the door, her coat and cell phone in hand.

"Reid looks like he is going to faint." She said lightly, having just teased her younger colleague about his poor state. "If that's okay with you, I'll take the first SUV and bring him and JJ back to the hotel. What do you say to some pizza in the hotel lobby? I think everyone is really too tired to go have a proper meal in a restaurant."

The three men looked up, their stomachs suddenly growling. They hadn't realized that they were hungry until Emily spoke about eating.

"Sounds good." Derek was the first to answer. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, well we'll be on our way then." She smiled sympathetically before leaving the room, soon pursued by Derek and his special demands concerning the toppings of the pizza.

xxx

Spencer stretched his legs under the coffee table, around which the six members of the team had crammed. The hotel they had booked rooms in had no real living area, other than a couch, a couple of chairs and a tiny table, which was now buried under different varieties of pizza. Reid, JJ and Rossi had managed to get enough space on the couch for the three of them, while Hotch was seated on the armchair. Emily and Derek had gone for the lonely chairs at each end of the table. Although it was almost one in the morning, no one had wanted to go to bed without settling their stomach first.

"God, that smells so good…" As soon as Derek had entered the hotel lobby, closely followed by Rossi and Hotch, he had set an eager look on the pizza boxes. After all, they had fed on coffee and occasional granola bars during the whole day.

Now that half the pizza boxes were empty and everyone's stomach had been calmed down a little, they could get their attention away from the food and into a light conversation again.

"Reid, you should go to bed before any of us has to carry you upstairs…" Derek joked, patting his younger friend's shoulder as he stirred, opening tired eyes.

"Nah, I'm fine…"

"Sure you are." Derek smirked and gave an understanding glance to the round. "So what are your plans for the week-end?"

Although the current case was far from being wrapped up and it was already Thursday, the profilers could still hope they would have a proper week-end. Over the years, they had found out that the best remedy to not break down because of their crazy work hours was to look forward to their next leisure time, whenever it might come. So they would now regularly talk about holidays, week-ends and other evening plans. It helped them keep their sanity, although half of the mentioned plans would eventually be cancelled because of another case – or paperwork.

"I'm looking forward to finally spend some time with my son…" JJ was the first to answer.

"I hope you will. The little guy needs some mother-time, eh? What about you, Rossi?"

Rossi gave out a smirk before answering.

"Besides sleep? An old friend of mine, from the Marine, will be in town, so hopefully…"

Derek burst out in laughter when he spotted Hotch's eyes widen. Everyone knew what was coming.

"… hit the bars? Oh, Christ." The younger agent finished the sentence for Rossi, his eyes still set on Hotch. "Hotch, you seem to know what he's talking about…"

"Oh, too well." The head agent said, letting out a sigh. "Never again am I letting you drag me into your evening rounds, Dave. And I would strongly advise all of you to refuse coming along if this _man_ ever asks you…"

Emily and JJ couldn't help laughing too at the seriousness of Hotch's words and the look of surprise and fake hurt on David Rossi's face.

"I don't know what you mean…" He raised innocent eyes towards the women of the group, not wanting to give up his gentlemanlike reputation.

"Trust me Hotch, _I_ damn well know what you mean…" Emily said, to everyone's surprise. Hotch raised an eyebrow – when and _why_ had Emily Prentiss gone to hit the bars with the infamous David Rossi? When she sensed everyone's eyes on her, the brunette raised both her hands in defense.

"Long and depressing case… I am _never_ doing this again."

The truth was, it had been right after Matthew's case. She had needed someone to confide in, and since Rossi already knew about the abortion, she had agreed to talk some more over a beer. Little had she known that she would end up crawling up her bedroom stairs at five in the morning.

"I had a headache for three days." Hotch said, sipping at his bottle of beer absently. They were off-duty tonight, which meant they could enjoy a little alcohol if they so wished – it would only help them sleep better.

Emily looked at her superior, trying to lock with his gaze without success.

"_I_ woke up on my car when a garbage man shook me, thinking I was dead." She muttered to herself, ignoring the look of shock which was displaying ever more clearly on Rossi's face. He could not believe she would share such disclosed information with the rest of the team. He wanted to crawl under the ground.

"Wait, _on_ your car?" Derek asked, his eyes wide and a smirk already forming on his lips.

"He left you there?" Hotch's face was much more serious, and he was now throwing flames at his older friend, who raised his hands in defeat, as attention shifted back to him.

"_She_ left me sitting on the floor of the bar with the drunken barmaid. Though I must say…"

"Okay, next story!" Hotch called out, not really wanting to hear about yet another trophy of David Rossi. Emily burst out in laughter, although her eyes soon regained their sad and serious sparkle. She would probably need another one of these black-outs when this case was over, to forget about the last days on _and_ off-duty.

"Well, I guess it's a little late for any more ghost stories anyway…" Rossi said, sitting up and clapping his hands. "I'll leave you to it."

"In fact, I think it would be good for everyone to get a few hours' sleep. We'll be up soon enough tomorrow." Hotch added, looking at his different agents. He had already witnessed Reid's eyes close again not two minutes ago, and JJ didn't look much more awake, given the outrageous number of yawns she had tried to hide in the last half hour.

In agreement, Emily and Derek began gathering the different pizza boxes and empty bottles of beer. Hotch shed her one last glance before saying goodnight and heading to his own room. As Emily started to walk out to the exterior bin, her hands loaded with the garbage they had left, Derek leapt at the opportunity and followed her with the rest of the empty boxes.

"I've been wanting to talk to you all day…" He began, when he was sure to be out of earshot of his colleagues. He didn't want to run around the bush, so he asked bluntly:

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Emily stared at him – it would be a lie to say she hadn't been expecting this. Morgan and herself had always been very close, and she would often confide into him. However, she was glad Hotch had taken over this time. Dean would probably already lie in a hospital bed if Derek had been informed earlier, or had witnessed the last encounter. Derek Morgan could be a bully sometimes.

"Not really, Morgan." She simply said, pursing her lips.

"Okay, but _I_ need you to talk about it. What the hell is going on?" Derek could have kicked himself for using this angry tone, but he couldn't help the frustration washing over him. Since when had she taken away her trust in him?

"Derek, this is personal." She snapped, not liking when she was pushed around. She had been so enough in the last days.

"Right, that's why Hotch seems to know every detail of it…" he said suspiciously.

Emily paused and let out a sigh. Derek Morgan was a friend and had reasonably a right to know what was bothering her so much.

"Okay, but I trust that this will stay between us… And I don't want your help or anything." By that, she obviously meant that she didn't want Derek to go and kill the man on her behalf. She was a big girl and could shoot him herself if she so wished. "I was going out with this guy for a couple of months. Nothing very serious, but still… His name is Dean. Two days ago, we had kind of a fight and he hit me." When saw Derek flinch and about to speak, she raised a finger to bring him to silence. She wouldn't go over this more than once. "My neighbor thought she would do me a favor and called Hotch. Anyway, long story short, I kicked Dean out and told him it was over, and he doesn't accept that."

Derek's face fall at her confession. His guess about an abusive boyfriend hadn't been so wrong then, and he could now very well understand why Aaron Hotchner was so mad about the whole situation.

"Has he been harassing you?"

Emily cleared her throat, knowing that Derek's anger would probably grow with every more detail she disclosed. But she needed to come clear with him if she didn't want yet another one of her coworkers watching her like a doll about to break.

"He was here earlier, actually. Hotch almost got in a fight with him."

"He what?" Despite the circumstances, Emily could suddenly see a spark of amusement in Morgan's eyes, as he pictured the head agent going fist first at the ex.

"It didn't come to that, of course. Hotch is too intelligent to give in to provocation."

Derek brushed a hand over his neck, trying to loosen the knot of worry that had built up in the last two days – or past years, he was not sure.

"So what are you going to do?" He had a feeling that this man was not just another abusive man. Following his ex from DC to Philadelphia was more a thing for a stalker.

"Focus on the job I have to do and deal with that when we come back…" She stated honestly, although the way she avoided Derek's gaze told him that there was more to the story.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Following his instinct, he asked without much tact. Emily seemed to hesitate, but she had already gone too far into her confession to actually care about supplement details being revealed.

"I've had a couple of nightmares. I know that's perfectly normal…"

"It is." He cut her, locking with her gaze to assure her of his support.

"It's just… I've always been so good at compartmentalizing." With that, she meant of course that nightmares were a rare thing. What she saw on the job did not burden her subconscious unless it hit particularly close to home. Like it had with Matthew. Or with Foyet.

"Welcome into our world, then."

She tried to smirk at the comment but only made it a faint and unconvincing smile.

"I'd prefer you didn't tell Hotch. I'm pretty sure he might just change his mind about the undercover operation if he knew that I haven't a baby sleep…" She exaggerated the last words in a vain attempt to make Derek laugh.

"I do agree with the boss man on this one. You shouldn't be too much exposed under these circumstances…"

"Under what circumstances?" She spat, clearly frustrated. "Did I shy away after the Cyrus episode? Or after my encounter with Schrader?"

"Just because you are too stubborn to step back doesn't mean that it is actually a reasonable decision." He said seriously. In fact, Emily hadn't seen Derek so serious in a long time. Both hands crossed in front of his chest, he was looking down at her with soft eyes and a clear look of worry.

"Right… Anyway, I convinced Hotch, so you don't really have a word there."

"Did you flutter your eyes at him or threaten him with your gun?" He said with a half smile appearing on his face.

"Do you really think Aaron Hotchner would have given in to either?" she said with a smirk, already walking away through the door, to the upstairs rooms. When she was out of earshot, Derek smiled to himself and muttered to himself:

"Oh yeah, I think he would have given in all the way…"

xxx

_Now, big boy, what are you going to do?_

_The boy, trying as hard as he could not to wet himself out of pure terror, looked up to meet the big man's eyes. He didn't like the way his father was leaning over him. It was threatening and scary. He would likely have just run away and into the closet, but then the big man would probably have laughed at his cowardice and come after him. So he just stood there, holding his dark gaze and silently praying for him to calm down on his own. But his mother stirred, and that was again enough to send him over the edge. Lowering to the ground level, where she lay, the big man forgot about his son as he helped his wife to stand up. It was not an act of pity – he simply wanted to show her that he had the power in the house. He could decide whether she was to stand or lie lifeless on the kitchen tiles._

Hotch's eyes shot open, meeting only darkness. Mistaking the obscurity of the motel room for the darkness in the closet of his child bedroom, the man panicked during a few seconds, until his hand found the gun on the drawer. Wiping the sweat of fright from his face, Aaron sat up and shifted his legs out of bed, realizing that they were still shaking from the dream when they unsteadily came into contact with the ground. He turned on the light and looked at his hands for a moment, waiting for his breathing to steady before doing any more move. A single look at his cell phone told him that it was not yet three in the morning, but he doubted to be able to find sleep again tonight.

The cold air of the night hit his body at the moment he opened the door of his room. Hotch breathed in deeply, taking two steps out in the corridor. Like most road-side motels in the US, the corridor connecting the rooms was a balcony looking over the parking lot.

"Are you trying to scare the shit out of me?"

Hotch almost jumped in surprise when he turned to face David Rossi's gun.

"Waw, Dave! Are you mad?" Trying to keep his voice low for the others' sake, he gestured to his friend to lower the gun from his upper chest, and let out a sigh of relief when the elderly agent dug the weapon in the back of his trousers. Why was he still dressed anyway?

"You tell me that, I heard shouting coming from your room... Did you fight off a ghost or what?"

Hotch sighed again, turning away from his friend involuntarily, to avoid his penetrating gaze.

"What's the matter?" Rossi asked again, seeing the uneasiness on Hotch's face.

"I had a nightmare, that's all. Sorry for waking you." This sounded like a 'good night', though neither walked away. Hotch simply stayed near the handrail, glancing over the sea of cars parked in front of the motel. Among them were their two SUVs, looking like giants among the normal-sized cars.

"A nightmare?" Rossi raised an eyebrow at his friend, joining him in his observation of the obscure parking lot. "About what?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, Dave." Hotch said annoyed. He turned a questioning gaze when Rossi let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Well, that's a pity, Agent Hotchner, because you just woke me up at three in the morning, and I couldn't really find any sleep after the fright you gave me."

Hotch didn't say anything. His throat was still dry from the nightmare. He had never actually shouted or even spoken in his sleep before. Maybe the nightmares were just coming out stronger now.

"How about coffee?"

"There's no coffee shop around, Dave."

The elderly man huffed. What was this town without a 24/7 coffee shop around every corner?

"Then I have a very nice and warm drink in my mini bar, if you want to join me…"

Finally giving in to his harassing, Hotch turned towards him.

"Alright, I'll talk, but no more threatening about alcohol. I don't trust you with this." He failed to hide a smirk at his friend's permanent good humor, even in the middle of the night. He sheepishly followed David Rossi in his room, sitting down in the only chair rather than the bed itself. It felt too personal, and although Rossi was a friend, Hotch had to find a way to distance himself.

"So, what was that nightmare about?"

"My mother." Rossi looked helplessly at Hotch without saying a word, obviously waiting for an elaboration. "I thought I had already told you about this." Rossi couldn't quite be sure whether it was a statement or a question, but he answered anyway:

"Aaron, I can count the confessions you made me on a single hand… You _are_ a very private person, you know."

"Thanks for the news… Anyway, if you would maybe not interrupt me…"

Rossi raised his hands in defeat and patiently waited for his friend to go through the story.

"My father had a drinking problem. And when he had a few too many, he would take out his anger on my mother… and me."

Rossi's eyes widened with surprise. He would never have thought Aaron Hotchner was an abused child.

"I didn't really get the full extent of the situation. I was quite little at the time, my father died when I was twelve. And I must say that, in the last years, he had been quite weakened by his sickness, so he wasn't so violent anymore…"

"I didn't have a clue, Aaron. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it was a long time ago."

Rossi searched for an answer on Hotch's face. A question was burning his lips but he didn't quite know how to put it. Joining his hands and taking a serious face, he searched for Hotch's eyes without success. This was a typical defense of Aaron, to avoid eye contact.

"Why do they come back now then?"

"Emily." He simply said. He did not have to look up to feel Rossi's eyes all over him.

"What?"

"When I saw what he had done to Emily's face, it reminded me too much of that time…"

"Oh."

An awkward silence fell between the two friends. Rossi didn't really know what to say to relieve the pressure on Aaron's shoulders, and the latter was apparently done with his confession. He would never go over the details of his nightmares with anyone – that, he would keep to himself. When the silence became unbearable, Rossi finally opened his mouth.

"She is not your mother, Aaron. For one, she is not married to this prick. Secondly, she knows how to defend herself."

"I know that." Hotch said, putting extra stress on each word to convince Rossi.

"Then why did you want to take her out of the field?"

Hotch flinched. He had not seen this question coming.

"We will all have an eye on her, Aaron. But it's unfair to make her pay for your own fears."

"I don't think I am that _unfair_ to her. You make it sound like a put a lot of pressure on her." Hotch's eyes narrowed as he looked up to his colleague, who only smirked in return.

"Well, JJ told me how you ran after her earlier when she had this visit. And I picked up the tension between you two in the conference room, when it came to the undercover operation."

"Alright, I'll give you that." Hotch tried to interrupt, but from the look on Rossi's face, he was not quite finished yet.

"_And_ I can almost hear you harass her with questions, while you certainly don't tell her about your nightmares…"

"That's personal." Hotch answered a little too automatically.

"And her relation with her boyfriend – or whatever he is – is not?"

The younger agent froze, realizing that Rossi was right, as usual. The elderly man had always had a very good instinct when it came to relationship issues. Hotch could still not understand how he had gotten divorced three times despite his clear understanding of the human mind and heart.

"So what are you suggesting, in clear?" Hotch let out a short breath, a sign for his embarrassment and frustration.

"If Emily knew about your history, she might understand better why you take it personal – and let you help." The last part finished to convince Hotch, who began to nod absently, until Rossi finally patted him on the shoulder.

"Agent Rossi, I hope this little late night visit stays between us?" Hotch hesitated between his bossy look and a pleading voice, which resulted in quite a strange demand and brought Rossi to smile sympathetically.

"Yes, boss. Now get the hell out of my room so that I can at least pretend to sleep for a couple of hours…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Thanks for your reviews.**

**Chapter 8: To fight and protect**

Emily Prentiss was the first out the next morning. She had awoken in tears around four o'clock, and the state of her bed sheets told her that she must have been fighting someone off very vividly. For over ten minutes, she had quieted her breathing and listened for any noise outside – not that she was afraid she might actually be attacked in her sleep, but she hoped that no one would have heard her. The brunette would have been mortified if Aaron Hotchner had barged in for the third time in 72 hours to find her alone with her nightmares. But as no sound was heard from outside her room, Emily had guessed that she had had a quiet terror. If such a thing really existed.

Unable to go back to sleep, she had waited for the first rays of light to show through the curtains before hastily dressing into jogging pants and going out for an early run. Apart from keeping her fit, these regular jogs had always helped her clear her mind and calm her nerves. And it was far more sane than drinking herself to death after a draining case or a personal disappointment. After a few miles run at a crazy rhythm, she had stopped and gone back to the motel. She didn't want Hotch or anyone else to worry any more than they already were, about her running alone in the early morning on the road side. Without a noise, the brunette had slipped into her room again and quickly showered. She had taken her time, and yet she still was the first to sit down in the lobby with her copies of the files, to get some work done while waiting for her team mates to wake up.

"Where did you get that coffee?" Reid was the first downstairs, and he looked curiously at the paper cup lying in-between the files. Crap, so much for keeping her little run secret.

"I woke up early. Sorry, I didn't bring any for you all, since it would have run cold."

The young doctor smiled tiredly and sat down across from his colleague, rubbing his eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, giving him an understanding smile.

"Oh yes!" He answered enthusiastically. "Ready to go on the field then?"

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes saying that, thinking that she would finally get some work done instead of sitting around the conference room.

"Remember that this guy probably looks as normal as you and me…" Reid began before suddenly hesitating. "… if that makes any sense." Emily couldn't suppress a smirk. Spencer Reid was nowhere near normal. He was still half asleep and already talking profiles and serial killers.

"I'm beginning to think the unsub might actually be on the 'good side'. I've been thinking about this since yesterday evening, since what Hotch said…" Her voice trailed off as the man she was speaking of entered the lobby with David Rossi.

"Good morning. What was that?" Apparently he had overheard the last part of Emily's statement.

"I was just saying that I'm more and more convinced that our unsub is not part of the junky world at all. It would make no sense to call his victims 'liars' if he too is involved in the business."

Hotch nodded, sitting down next to Reid. He saw the cup of coffee and wondered for a second if Emily had had any sleep at all, but decided against pushing her this early in the morning.

"That's what I was thinking… although I should probably not have made it crystal clear to Detective Granger." The head agent said pensively.

"Well, he seems professional enough to get over this." The brunette said, looking up to her superior. He seemed a little calmer than the previous evening, although she could only be concerned at the dark circles under his eyes. Had he paced around all night, asking himself whether it was a good idea after all to send her in the field?

"Anyway, we have a meeting this morning with Granger and a detective involved in the Drugs Action Program. He will brief you exactly on the locations of the dealers, the dangerous areas and so on. They are helping us set up the surveillance system too."

Emily nodded and downed her coffee before throwing the cup into the nearby bin. She would need another one soon if she didn't want to fall asleep at the conference table.

xxx

Something kept bothering her, Derek Morgan could tell it by merely looking at her body language. She had been playing with the same pen for over twenty minutes, only stopping when Hotch had turned a concerned gaze in her direction. She had to keep her nerves in control, Emily had reminded herself and laid down the innocent pen. But even then, she hadn't stopped fidgeting with her hands and biting her lips. Derek had been a profiler long enough to know what these gestures were signifying. Emily Prentiss was nervous, _very_ nervous, and the caffeine was obviously not to blame.

He hadn't called in the last twelve hours. This was weird. Even frightening. Emily would gladly have slapped herself to get her mind off Dean, but she probably would have gotten curious looks from her team mates, so she decided against it. Still, she couldn't quite focus on Hotch's speech with these dark thoughts in mind. The brunette had almost expected to find missed calls registered on her cell phone, when she had checked the device after her morning shower. But until now, Dean had not called, and this was not to reassure Emily. Either the man had given up, or he had found another way to calm his obsessive personality.

"We will set up a surveillance team in this building," Hotch said, pointing to a point on the map. "which will have permanent connection to Agent Prentiss' microphone, and the different CCTV cameras in the area. This way, we will have sound and image."

Emily felt a little uneasy when Hotch's eyes fell on her. In addition to their complete team were now gathered in the conference room a couple of officers working for Drugs squad and Detective Granger, who was supposed to smooth the ends and help the different units work together.

"In addition, we will have two agents on the field, in their cars _here_ and _there_… That makes six agents in total to keep an eye on the scene, not including Agent Prentiss. Now, the operation will begin at 9 PM."

He nodded to the round, a clear sign that his speech was finished. "Lieutenant Cooper and Detective Granger will give you all a debrief about the dangerous zones, the hot spots of the area and so on."

With these words, he retreated and let the local policemen take his place in front of the map.

Xxx

"It's been four days since the last body was found. There is a good chance that he is hunting down his next victim as we speak…" Reid muttered, looking at the board displaying the victims' pictures. He had been observing this board for the last 24 hours. Each time he would be in the conference room, he would just stand there and stare at the smiling women on the portraits. They had already ruled out that the choice of victims was guided by any facial similarity, although he was finding more and more similarities between the last two victims.

"You think we are running late? That he already chose someone?" Emily raised a questioning gaze to her colleague, and her voice was tainted with disappointment. Not that she particularly wished to meet and become the prey of a serial killer. But it was their best chance to find the unsub – their only plan for now.

"Maybe…" Reid's eyes were still set on the pictures. He sensed movement right behind him and looked over his shoulder to find Hotch stand and stare, just like him. "The thing is that we don't know how long he is observing his potential victims before striking." He finished his thought.

"What's on your mind?" Hotch asked. He could feel that Reid was bothered by something.

"We didn't really solve the mystery of his change in MO." Hotch pursed his lips, not knowing what to say. They all hated when one piece of the puzzle didn't fit – and this was a big one.

"I know. Maybe it's just simple escalation…"

"Waw, that would be a hell of an escalation!" Emily's surprised voice came from behind. She was currently busy with the technical officer, who helped her put the microphone in place.

"I know, it's far-fetched." Hotch answered, his eyes lingering on Emily's tight-fitting shirt and skirt, and the inappropriate places where the engineer's hands were headed to put the microphone into place.

"Have you noticed the facial similarity between the last two victims?" Reid interrupted, oblivious to the exchange between Hotch and Emily. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts and theories.

"Both brunettes, both quite skinny. Nothing to do with the other victims."

Rossi, who had been standing all that time leaning against the doorframe, cleared his throat.

"Maybe we ruled out the physical factor a little too early…" He said, continuing the younger agent's unspoken theory.

"I don't think we made any mistake in our profile." Reid answered absently. "There is only one level to add."

"A personal revenge?" Emily raised an eyebrow.

"That brings the puzzle together. Victims 3 and 4 were killed with much more violence than the others, and they look alike. They probably reminded the unsub of someone he knew." Reid recited, turning to Rossi as he saw that he was about to speak.

"We already concluded that the man must himself be torn between the world of drugs and good society, to have a grudge against these girls. I don't think they remind him of his own situation – but maybe he experienced drug addiction first-hand, with his sister, or girl friend?"

"… An important woman in his life died because of her addiction, and he's taking his anger out at young women who took the same path. The first murder was planned, careful, reasoned. He thought that he was doing these girls a favor by ending their life." Reid continued.

"And then, the rage took over. He found a victim who reminded him of his own demons, and lost control. And he found satisfaction in that violence." Emily couldn't help shiver as her mind drifted once again to the pictures of the battered women. Unlike Reid and the rest of the team, she hadn't missed the similarity between both victim 3 and 4, nor the resemblance between herself and these last victims. Which made her all the more perfect for the role. As though reading her mind, Hotch glanced over at Rossi, and back at Emily.

"I know what you are going to say, Hotch." She said before any of the men had a chance to add anything.

"Prentiss…" The harsh look on his face would be enough to scare anyone off – in fact, the technical officer looked up at the tone of the voice, and his eyes widened – but Emily stood her ground. She was used to the bossy manners of Aaron Hotchner.

"That's a point in our favor, when you think about it." Reid remarked calmly, having picked up the sudden tension.

"It is, and I wasn't going to say anything different." Hotch finally gave in, turning to the board to avoid Emily's penetrating gaze – and the smirk on Rossi's face.

Emily cleared her throat, thanking the local officer as he finished connecting the different wires, and discreetly fled from the room.

"I forgot to tell you – Philadelphia Police Department put an apartment to our disposal – should the operation last longer than expected." Hotch said, still not turning around from the board.

"Alright. That will be necessary if we manage to attract the unsub's attention." Emily noted.

"Remember that the different crime scenes were clear of any evidence." Rossi added, taking a step into the room to let the rest of the team get through the door. They had tried to occupy their time as well as they could, since waiting was announced for the rest of the day. "Which means it would be best to catch the man in the act."

Emily's eyes did not display any emotion as they looked up to meet the elderly agent's gaze. He was right, she may have to take up the role a little longer than just a visit to Philadelphia's northern suburbs.

"Can anyone get some things for me there in case I have to spend the night in the rented apartment?" she asked, looking at her colleagues, as Hotch apparently was giving her the silent treatment.

"I'll take care of it." JJ offered.

"Okay, settled then."

The brunette looked at her watch and frowned when she saw that it was already five in the afternoon. The day had flown by without anyone noticing. They had not moved from the police station, all wrapped up in their different briefings so that every detail of the storyline was well-planned. As exciting as undercover operations were for the agents involved, they could also go terribly wrong if they hadn't been well prepared.

"So, who's going to be on the field then, apart from me?" Emily asked, finally getting their unit chief to turn around.

"Morgan will be in one of the cars, Detective Granger in the other. Myself and Rossi will join the surveillance team to keep an eye on the CCTV cams."

"Okay, I trust you'll have my back then." Emily nodded gratefully to Hotch in a silent agreement.

xxx

"Is something bothering you?"

Emily almost went for her gun by surprise as she spotted Derek Morgan leaning against the doorframe. She had just come out of the toilet and was about to wash her hands when she noticed the familiar silhouette in the giant mirror. The brunette suppressed a scream of surprise and shook her head negatively, opening the tap in front of her.

"You _do_ know that this is the ladies' room, right?" She asked in a sarcastic tone.

Derek smiled to himself, thinking about the horrified look a local female cop had greeted him with when he had popped his head through the doorframe.

"Talk to me. What's up?"

Emily closed the tap and rested both her hands on the washbasin.

"Did Hotch send you as a spy or what? Why can't you all leave me alone?" She faked to be annoyed although she knew they were only drawn by concern. And to be honest, she was the last one to leave any of her coworkers alone when they had a problem.

"Alright, Agent Morgan." She finally said, looking at her friend in the mirror. "I almost expected Dean to call again today. Not that I'm happy to be harassed… But, I just find it weird that he would give up so quickly."

Derek frowned.

"So… what? You're longing to talk to him?"

"Thanks for understanding, Morgan." Emily snapped at the evident lack of empathy.

"Okay, sorry." As she brushed past him, waiting for him to free the way, Derek reached forward and grabbed her forearm, making her involuntarily flinch. "Go on."

The brunette stopped, throwing flames at her coworker. When she crossed her arms in front of her chest, Derek knew that she was ready to talk.

"Well, he called non stop, then he surprised me by coming to Philadelphia… Why would he just drop the matter, all of a sudden?"

"Maybe Hotch scared him off?"

Emily made a face. Under different circumstances, Derek would probably have burst into laughter at his friend's expression, but this was hardly the time, he decided, erasing his smile from his face.

"I'll give you that. It's odd for an abusive man to just walk away and be reasonable."

They both fell into silence, before Emily cleared her throat.

"Anyway, this is neither the place nor the time. I'll deal with that when we come back." Pursing her lips and patting on her friend's shoulder, she silently thanked him for his concern and left the ladies' washrooms, almost bumping into JJ.

"Be careful, Morgan's in there…" She called after the blonde liaison agent, who shot her a curious look, just as Derek Morgan was brushing past her with a smile full of embarrassment.

xxx

It was almost seven and the whole team was now gathered in the conference room. Having spent the whole day preparing this undercover operation, Hotch had suggested they chill out and take some time to grab a bite before getting down to the work. And, as though reading his mind, Eric Granger had soon appeared in the doorframe with a tray full of coffees and a giant box of donuts, saying it was a courtesy from the local Police department.

As Reid grabbed his second donut and bit eagerly into it between two sips of hot coffee, he thought back to the time when he still was an alpha student, reading crime books. He had always thought that it was a cliché to think that cops would only feed off coffee and donuts. But then, he joined the FBI and realized that it was a practical meal to carry and share, which didn't need to be warmed up or to be eaten with cutlery. The ideal comfort food for stake-outs and all-night brainstormings.

"JJ, what did you do to the journalists that they leave us alone like this?" Derek asked after he had swallowed the last bite of his second chocolate donut. Indeed, the police station had been quiet the whole day, only buzzing with officers on duty or potential suspects, but no sign of a microphone or a TV camera.

"I think they went to bother the Pattern family again… Seriously, since we are not disclosing any information for now, they just got tired of waiting, I guess."

"They'll be back soon enough." Emily muttered to herself, remembering the angry journalist who had almost walked over her feet to get into the building the previous evening.

There was silence for a moment, while the last bits of donuts were being swallowed eagerly, the last sips of coffee downed.

"Rossi, I think we should better get going – the surveillance team is already on site and installing the material." Hotch said in a cold and calm voice. He didn't have to clap hands or look at anyone to make them understand that it was time to resume working.

"Reid, you and JJ will stay at the station to coordinate the work if something arises…" It could be anything really – another body found, a technical problem, a new development to the profile – but all the chief agent could think of was a problem with Emily.

"Also," he continued, sure to have the doctor's attention, "I thought about your earlier theory. Can you get in touch with Garcia and ask her to dig into the archives of the nearby hospitals? Maybe it will be easier to find the girl than the unsub himself. And, while you have Garcia in line, tell her to also check the personal files for all the undercover cops in the drugs squad…"

"… and social workers. I get it." Reid nodded, already making his way to the exit with his cell phone in hand. If his discoveries could keep Emily Prentiss from remaining too long on the field, it was worth a try.

"Morgan, you should be in position in an hour max. And Prentiss, I talked to Granger. He'll have one of his officers drive you."

Emily nodded. She felt the pressure building up all of a sudden inside her. In her whole career, she hadn't been that many times as an undercover agent. On the field, yes, but always with her badge and gun, not consciously and voluntarily taunting the unsub with her innocent looks. She felt relieve to have her gun in the tiny handbag she had been allowed to bring.

"Before I go, may I have a word?" Hotch asked softly, just as Rossi was walking out of the room already. Stopped by his change of mind, the elderly agent cleared his throat, sending him a knowing look.

"I'll wait for you in the SUV, then."

When the two dark-haired agents were out of earshot, Hotch began looking nervously around. An unusual sight for Emily Prentiss, who had always believed Aaron Hotchner to be the champion of self-control.

"What's up, Hotch? I hope we're not going over…"

"We're not." He cut her, the seriousness in his eyes taking her aback.

"Okay…" She began, unsurely about the continuation of the conversation.

"Since we both need a clear head for the next few hours, I wanted to… come clear, so to say."

Now, this was beginning to get interesting, Emily thought to herself, waiting for her unit chief to continue with his apparent confession.

"I'm sorry if I let my worry or my personal fears get in the way… I didn't want to harass you."

"You didn't _harass_ me, Hotch. I actually appreciate your concern… even if I don't exactly show you so." The brunette said, keeping her voice low so that the officers passing by would not overhear their conversation.

"Glad to hear that. Anyway… there is a reason for my concern, other than the fact that I am your friend."

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly not knowing where Hotch was driving at. Aaron Hotchner was not one making confessions in the middle of an obscure police station.

"You see, my father used to hit my mother too. Even though I was little at the time, I still can very vividly remember the beaten face of my mother, and the weakness in her eyes as she always came back to him, whatever he might do to her." When he was finished, Hotch looked up with fright in his eyes – not only at the sudden remembering of his dark past, but also in expectation of Emily's reaction.

"I… I don't know what to say." Hotch could tell that the brunette had tears in her eyes. She was one of the most empathic persons he had ever met – she would go in harm's way to save a stranger, and undergo considerable risks to help her friends and family. He could be proud to be counted among those.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to understand why this is getting to me…" He answered softly.

"You know I won't go back to him, right?" Emily asked all of a sudden, searching for some countenance in her superior's eyes.

"Of course. But you never know… The worse is to get isolated, Emily. Promise me you won't let him take you away from your friends."

Emily flashed him a sympathetic smile. The tears welling up in her eyes were more of gratefulness than real pain. She couldn't quite believe that Aaron Hotchner was confiding into her in such an honest way.

"You wouldn't let me." Her smile went over to Hotch's lips, although the man's eyes were still haunted with demons from the past.

"Not a chance, Agent Prentiss."

A comfortable silence took over as they watched another couple of laughing policemen walk by without greeting them with a single glance. Emily soon snapped back to reality, locking with her superior's gaze.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She offered, but only received a surprised look. She, who had just gone through a traumatic experience, was offering her help to her boss? He would never stop being astonished by her generosity.

"When this mess is over. You'll come and hit the bars with me for a change…" He smirked at her, glad to see not only shock display on her face, but also excitement at the prospect of the proposition.


	9. Chapter 9

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Thanks for your amazing reviews, I particularly appreciate constructive criticism on my writing style and construction of the characters/plot. It keeps me going.**

**Chapter 9: Hidden in the darkness**

Emily Prentiss dug both her hands into the large pockets of her jacket. With her high heels, tight skirt and black jacket, she looked very much alike a business woman who had just left the office. Her high heels were clapping on the cold concrete as she turned another corner, digging her hands deeper into her pockets, checking for the tenth time that the plastic bag was still there.

"Stop fidgeting, Prentiss. You're gonna look suspicious if you continue." She heard Hotch groan through the microphone, and she hissed in return:

"I doubt a bunch of junkies will notice my nervous state… God, I hate this place."

As she spotted a group of youngsters at the end of a street, she decided against going that way. She didn't want to risk jeopardizing the whole operation because some lost youth would have taken interest in her. From the long and tiresome briefing, she could remember the exact location of the dealing hotspot, where victim 4 was last recorded on the security cameras. Tightening the jacket around her, she continued without looking sideways.

"Is everything alright out there?" Derek Morgan's voice echoed through her ear. She had spotted the man sitting in a black and anonymous car two streets back, and had only greeted him with a curious look so as not to attract the extra attention.

"Will you stop talking to me, _please_?" She pleaded, suddenly afraid that the permanent connection with her team might just distract her from the job.

"Hey beautiful…" When a gruesome man came walking towards her, clearly under the influence of alcohol, Emily made a face and raised the rhythm of her steps. Finally, after another corner, the location she was looking for came into sight. A weak light was shining inside the premises, making the place a little less frightening. Two men were already discussing their business on one sidewalk, and another one was standing alone on the other side of the road. A lonely car passed by and Emily waited for it to drive away before crossing the road, now looking at her feet. She couldn't understand how young women like Lindsay Pattern or Marion Bayers could have walked in and out of here alive. Well, at least before they had met the unsub.

"Prentiss, for your information, Detective Granger is at the end of the road, in the blue car that is parked on the right-hand-side." Hotch's voice was calm and giving away no emotion at all. It was hard to believe that the man who was now giving her instructions had confessed his poor childhood to her merely two hours earlier. But the brunette knew that humanity and friendship had no place on the job, not when she risked her life.

Taking in the information without giving them any response or sign in return, Emily walked calmly nearer to the lonely man. She had no idea who he was, but it was pretty obvious that he was one of the dealers.

"You shouldn't be walking here on your own, beautiful…" The man raised an eyebrow as Emily stopped in front of him. She couldn't help shivering as he took a step closer.

"Um, maybe I am not at the right place…" She flashed him an embarrassed smile, taking out of her pocket the bunch of pills simultaneously. The man immediately spotted the material, and looked Emily up and down. Then he gave her a vicious smirk, which made the brunette a little uneasy.

"I think you are, pretty one. Why don't you come with me?"

He stepped aside, motioning for her to get inside the abandoned building.

xxx

David Rossi didn't have to look up to Hotch to know that he was disapproving this development. Though he didn't say anything over the microphone, knowing too well that Emily Prentiss would never fall into such a trick.

"Um… I'd prefer to stay in the open. Do you have anything for me or shall I continue my way?"

Hotch exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, as the words echoed through the almost empty surveillance room. Well done, Emily, he thought to himself.

"What are you looking for?" The harsh voice of the man responded to Emily. By the sound of the voice, Hotch could tell that he was standing close to her.

"Do we have anything on CCTV?" he asked, looking over to the technical engineers who had focused all their attention on the multiple screens.

"Nah, they are in a corner out of the security cams' vision." The engineer looked frustrated. Hotch swore to himself and turned back to the black and white images.

xxx

"Ecstasy." Emily said without blinking, looking straight into the man's eyes. He looked strong and clear-headed. He probably wasn't even using himself, only taking profit off the others' addiction.

"What do you have?" The man was become a little aggressive at her self-assurance. Maybe she should back off and look less confident, she thought to herself, lowering her gaze.

"Oxycodin and Xanax." The man's eyes gave nothing away for at least a minute, as he was probably reflecting about prices and values.

"Okay, but you'll have to get out some cash as well. These drugs sell pretty cheap on the market."

Emily's hand had already dug back into her side pocket. They had obviously been expecting this and had provided her with some cash additionally to the prescription drugs.

"How much do you want?"

"How much do you need?" The man smirked and gave her a knowing look.

xxx

"Rossi, do you see anything?" Hotch knew that, however concentrated he looked on the screen, he himself was fore and foremost focused on the sounds provided by the microphone. So he hoped David Rossi would have a clearer head and more chance in looking for their unsub on the CCTV cameras.

"I can see two groups over there, about two streets away from where Emily is, but they look far too young to be our unsub." He said with a frown, pointing at one of the screens.

"Here you can see the social services' van." The engineer remarked, making the FBI agents' attention shift to yet another image.

"Right. There is quite a crowd…" Hotch noticed.

"Well, they provide coffee, food sometimes, but mostly free medical check-ups. They have a large potential in this area." The engineer responded, obviously very aware of the social situation in this area of the city.

Rossi continued to scan the different footages. The poor quality of the latter made it difficult for him to really draw any conclusion. He could barely make out whether a silhouette was male or female, and whether it was a teenager or an adult. But beyond that was all darkness and uncertainty. Putting one hand over his microphone, he walked a couple of steps away from the group so as not to distract them in their work.

"Derek, anything?"

xxx

The deal took merely three minutes. One for Emily to hand over the bag of pills and get together the money asked by the unknown man. One for the man to count the exact amount of medication and hand over a folded paper containing several ecstasy pills. The last one was the longest for Emily, as she had to fight off her business partner, who showed a little too much interest in her cleavage and tight skirt. Yes, undercover operations involved some risks, but being physically harassed by a twenty-five years old 'bad boy' still was painful.

The brunette wrapped her arms around herself as she walked up the road. Of course, actually making the deal was the easiest part of the operation, she thought to herself as her eyes were scanning the surroundings. Apart from the same group of teenagers she had noticed earlier, she did not see anyone. The streets were empty, except for a few cars parked.

"Guys, tell me I did not all this for nothing?" She almost pleaded, covering her mouth with her hand as though she was about to sneeze.

"Be patient, Prentiss." She heard Hotch say in a breath, although it was clear that he was as frustrated as she was. "And get the hell out of there." She had to remind herself that she was still in plain sight before she smiled with no apparent reason. Clearing her throat, Emily shed one last glance backwards, noticing a couple walking by very unsteadily.

xxx

"So we just got… nothing?" Rossi brushed a hand over his face and put both on his hips, to give himself some countenance.

"Would you rather have witnessed a man run after Prentiss with a knife?"

Rossi snorted at the sarcastic tone. He would likely have made a comment about the absolute non-professionalism of his unit chief, but he caught himself just in time. He really didn't need to get distracted as well from the case because of a fight with his friend.

"Morgan, tell me you have something." Rossi almost snapped into his portable radio, as Hotch leaned over the engineers to get a clearer view onto the screens. Emily was now almost out of the district. They had decided she would walk to the bus station and be picked up by a female cop, so as not to attract any attention.

"From my position, I can see three men standing on the sidewalk and smoking. From their looks, I would say that they are waiting for customers."

"Nothing else?"

The line went silent for a few seconds and Rossi guessed that someone had walked by the car where Derek was waiting.

"A couple of social workers came by earlier, carrying bags of food. They were shied away by the locals."

Rossi turned to Hotch and greeted him with a look of helplessness. Both were thinking that they had been too late, that the unsub probably had already found another victim – or changed one more thing to his MO and found his victim in another place.

"Emily, where are you?" Hotch finally gave in, leaving the screens to Rossi's attention, and calling the principal key of the operation.

"Almost at the bus station. Do you have anything?"

"Unfortunately not. Did you notice someone watching you or following you?"

He distinctly heard the sarcastic laugh on the other end, and didn't pick it up, since he could very well understand her frustration.

"A woman alone and dressed like I am is evidently attracting a lot of attention. But I didn't see anyone following me. Okay, I'm there, Hotch."

"I'll have Lieutenant Cassidy pick you up. I guess we'll have to make it last a little longer, just to be sure."

As he heard a sigh and nothing else, the dark-haired agent couldn't help adding: "Are you okay with this?"

"I want to catch this bastard. Tell her to leave me at the apartment."

Hotch ended the conversation and turned around when his colleague's voice resonated through the bare room.

"Granger says he spotted a couple of men go Emily's way, when she left the dealer. But he couldn't really get a clear sight. What did Emily say?"

"She was the center of attention but there was nothing overly suspicious. Nothing that fits our unsub."

Rossi pursed his lips. From what he had overheard from Hotch's conversation with their female colleague, he knew that they were going the safe way. Emily would spend the night in the rented apartment and they would call the second surveillance team to jump in.

"Our unsub is apparently more careful than we had thought." He said more to himself than the three men who were standing in the room, ready to pack their things.


	10. Chapter 10

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Thanks for your amazing reviews.**

**Chapter 10: False alarm**

Emily Prentiss looked around the living room and made a mental note to thank the Lieutenant who had agreed to let them use her apartment as bait. This was a real apartment, with books on the shelves, a functioning TV and a kitchen to cook in. The refrigerator had even been filled as a courtesy of the local police station, for the sake of the operation. At least, Emily would have a nice place to sleep in and some occupation. As the brunette looked into the living area, she smiled at the sight of her go-bag gently placed on the coffee table, along with some files. JJ had always known how to make Emily happy and content – and feeding her with some work was exactly what Emily needed to get her mind off the unsub for a few hours.

Slumping down into the comfortable sofa, the brunette let out a deep sigh when she felt the well-known vibration of her professional cell, and fished the device out of her jacket.

"Yeah, Hotch."

"Are you all settled?" Emily smiled at the question. She would feel very lonely tonight without the presence of any of her coworkers, she thought to herself.

"Very well. We were lucky to get this place instead of some empty and impersonal surveillance apartment." She said, closing her eyes to enjoy the tranquility of the place. Hotch let out a groan of contentment, before getting back to business:

"Remember you're supposed to be on your guard. So no long hot bath or whatever… Keep your gun at hand." The smile lingered a little longer on Emily's face, although she knew that the matter was serious.

"How do you know I'm a girl for hot baths?"

"You talk in your sleep, Prentiss." For a moment, she went dead silent as her mind raced back to all the weird dreams she had already had on the jet. A hot bath? God, she hoped she was alone in that dream, and didn't give away any more embarrassing information.

"Anyway…" She said, faking to be hurt, "I'm always on my guard, you know that."

"I know. We have two men watching the entrance to the building. They've been in position for over an hour, and watched you walk in just now. I'm pretty sure that, if the unsub plays along, he will have followed you to the building. And if he comes up, we'll be catching him on his way down."

Emily reflected a moment. She didn't want to seem unconfident, but this was a long shot.

"Do you really believe I may have attracted his attention? He would already have made a move."

"Granger and Morgan saw a few men who could fit in the profile, and who showed particular interest as you passed by. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Okay. Call if there's anything I can do."

"Samewise."

When she had ended the call, the brunette stretched on the couch. If a hot bath was not allowed, maybe she could take a little nap, with her gun in hand, that is. She hadn't slept well in days and, paradoxically, this place felt relaxing to her. It didn't remind her of anything personal. It was neutral.

Xxx

"Reid's got something." Rossi and Hotch had just arrived at the police station, to debrief the situation with the rest of the team. Hotch had made a pause in the corridor to talk to Emily first, and Rossi had calmly waited for him to finish before popping his head around the corner and bringing back to reality.

"I'll be right in." The dark-haired agent followed his colleague into the conference room, where the team was gathered, plus Eric Granger, who was wearing a face of expectation. He had been so disappointed in the apparent failure of their plan. Not that he had actually believed that the unsub would come and waltz with a knife under the vigilant eye of CCTV cameras and surveillance officers. But no one had drawn the attention to him, although the place was full of strange men. You could see it both ways: either they had too many suspects, or none at all. And either way, it did not help the case.

"Shoot, genius." Derek called out when he Hotch walked in to stand quietly in the back of the room. He still looked pissed at the latest developments of the case – or better, the unpleasant lack of developments – but a strange tranquility had washed over his features. The younger agent tore his eyes off the head agent, to concentrate on Reid.

"Alright, while you were out there, JJ and I worked on the profile with the magnificent help of Garcia. To be precise, we focused on men between 25 and 40 who had some business or official reason to frequent that area of the city."

As he was speaking, Reid was moving his hands in front of his chest, as if giving a rhythm to the declaration. After knowing him for several years, everyone on the team knew that Reid was by nature a nervous person. And being stuck in office while his coworkers were on the frontline obviously did not make him any more confident.

"Social workers, policemen, local storekeepers…" His voice trailed off as he turned around to pin a picture to the board, which looked more and more chaotic.

"Who is that?" Hotch asked, his arms crossed on his chest in a defensive position.

"Michael Jennings." Reid announced as though this simple name would solve the whole mystery. But his teammates were far from flabbergasted, and merely raised surprised eyes to him.

"He is 27 years old. No regular job. He has been changing employer every six months for a few years, taking over jobs like cleaning, helping out in a gas station… For the last three months, he has been working as security agent on the campus of the University of Pennsylvania."

Derek held his breath, trying to read his coworker's face. But, as usual, Reid was impenetrable. The strategic silence the young doctor let wash over his audience soon became unbearable, and Derek exhaled when Hotch finally intervened and cleared his throat. If anything could get Reid to talk, it was the disapproving glance of their superior.

"Plus, from what we gathered calling the local social services, he has been regularly volunteering all over town for the department as well as associations. Distributing food, assisting doctors for free medical examinations…"

"Any history with drugs?" Rossi could tell that Spencer Reid was not finished yet. Everything fit in the picture – the profession, the social interest, the regular presence in the northern districts. He had the opportunity to meet all the victims – what was still missing was a motive.

"He was himself never involved in drug dealing or using – but a certain Patricia Jennings – his sister, from what Garcia found – was admitted to Temple University Hospital for an overdose in June 2007. She died in the ambulance, on her way there."

A deep silence took over the whole team, as they all looked for answers on their coworkers' faces.

"I doubt we could find anyone who would fit the profile better. Socially unstable, he fits the age and gender, has a mobile and is torn between the two worlds – the so perfect university campus with innocent students, and the dark world of junkies." Rossi declared with a solemn voice.

"Does he have a criminal record?" Hotch asked, his eyes still set on some indefinite point on the tile floor. His mind was racing a hundred miles an hour as he thought of all the time they had wasted on the undercover operation, while a simple on-line research had given them the solution.

"Arrested three times – August 2007, December 2008 and February 2009 - for aggravated assault. It all began after the sister's death…" Reid noticed, trying not to sound like he was justifying any of the unsub's actions.

"Nothing since?"

"Nope." The young doctor made a face, apparently guessing what his superior was driving at.

"He has violent tendencies, which came out after the trauma of a familial loss. Maybe after he did time in prison, he began trying to control his pulsions…"

"And it all lashed out with these first murders." Rossi finished Hotch's sentence, looking for approval in his coworkers' eyes.

Eric Granger, who had stayed very silent for the whole exchange – part of him still didn't understand why these people put so much more energy in trying to understand the guy rather than catch him – took a step forward and asked softly:

"If you're finished, maybe we can get an address?"

Reid stood still for a moment, taken aback by the man's impatient tone, before snatching back into reality.

"Um… yeah. Garcia – our technical analyst – sent us all the details." He said and automatically grabbed his cell phone to reach for the precise information.

To prove Reid's point, the little device started to ring just at this moment, and he immediately took the call.

"Garcia, the whole team's there. What do you got?"

"Well, I continued to do my research on our suspect…" Penelope's voice echoed through the room as Reid stretched the phone in front of him for everybody to hear, "He withdrew some money not five minutes ago on the corner of 18th and Walnut Street."

"Looks like he is going back to his place." Reid said pensively, checking once again the nearby address.

Hotch immediately set into action, loosening the grasp he had on the edge of the table, and looking at each member of his team.

"Thank you, Garcia. Continue to track his every movements and call me if you have anything. Detective Granger, send some officers over to the address Reid will send you. Tell them we are on our way to join them. JJ, you come with us but stay behind to deal with the media. If we make the arrest in a public place, they will be there in no time. We have to make this clean."

Xxx

Emily was sat on the edge of the window, her eyes observing the tranquility of the night outside. She had had no news in almost an hour, which could either mean that her team was on a lead and didn't want to worry her, or that nothing had happened yet. Given the absolute silence of her surroundings and the lack of movements of the two surveillance cars downstairs, the brunette had necessarily gone for the second option. She stifled a yawn and stopped herself before she checked her wristwatch for the thirtieth time. If – very unlikely – the unsub was watching her, her attitude would seem suspicious. She was about to hop off the edge and go back to the couch when she caught movement in the corner of her eye. The two cars had driven away with full speed. Cross the previous thoughts, she said to herself, maybe they had a lead indeed. Either way, she would have to go through the night and stay on her guard. Deciding that another coffee would help her just do that, the brunette let her steps guide her to the tiny kitchen, where she had gladly found the coffee machine an hour ago. As she poured herself another cup, the vibration of her cell phone echoed from the living room.

"Yeah, Hotch?" She answered automatically, absolutely certain that it was her friend calling to keep her informed.

"How are you holding on?"

"I'm bored…" she teased, before becoming serious once again. "I just saw the cars speeding away. Tell me you have something."

Hotch hesitated a moment, visibly talking to somebody next to him. Emily could hear movements on the other end of the line, and realized that the team probably already was in action.

"We have our main suspect. Garcia was able to trace his latest credit card activity and we are heading to his place right now."

Emily quickly erased the smile of relief washing over her features, telling herself that the case wasn't quite over yet.

"Do you want me to come along?"

"No, we are already on our way and it's not exactly in our area of town. I just wanted to keep you informed – you can leave the apartment and join us at the police station if you want."

"Oh yeah…" She said, exaggerating each word. Hotch knew she had been going crazy, just pacing around in the apartment, on her own.

Suddenly, soft knocks echoed on the front door, and Emily turned a surprised gaze. She walked over, her hand already on the knob and pulling the door open, simultaneously asking.

"Did you send an officer to drive me back?"

Hotch's negative response did not have the time to register with her brain. She had not even opened the door completely when a massive form made his way through, and something hard collided with her jaw, sending her to the ground in less than two seconds.


	11. Chapter 11

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing**

**Chapter 11: In self defense**

Aaron Hotchner had stopped abruptly in the middle of the parking lot, when he had heard a shattering sound on the other end of the line. He didn't have to listen more carefully to know what was going on. Rossi shot him a questioning look – he had been too busy strapping the bulletproof vest over his shirt to actually give any attention to his friend's conversation – that is, until Hotch began shouting Emily's name again and again.

"What's wrong?"

Even his question had no answer or impact on Hotch's attitude, as he continued staring at nowhere in particular and shouting over the phone. Then, all of a sudden, he set into motion and jumped into the driver's seat.

"What's going on, Aaron?" Rossi and Derek glanced at each other in complete helplessness. Although they had no idea as to the exact reason for this outburst, they knew that Hotch rarely freaked out. For him to be in such a state must mean that things had turned badly. They jumped into the car right before the dark-haired agent sped off, still leaving them with no answer.

"Rossi, call Granger and tell him to send his surveillance team up to the apartment." Rossi was satisfied to note that Hotch's voice had calmed down a little. The last thing they needed in this situation was a unit chief who lost control. The older agent flipped open his cell phone and dialed the number he had come to call an impressive number of times in the last three days.

Xxx

Emily closed her eyes for a moment until her brain had registered the pain in her face and found a way not to pass out. She didn't know how long it took though, until the impression of having the apartment turning around her finally stopped. Her jaw was hurting like hell, where an elbow had collided with her silky skin.

"You bitch!" As she was slowly moving her hands to lift her body from the floor, strong hands grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her backwards so that she would be on her knees. Emily's hands immediately shot to the back of her skull as she cried out in pain, but it didn't slow down the process. The pounding in her head was so loud that she had not yet located the voice, but she wasn't all that surprised when she turned around to face Dean Johnson.

"What are you doing here? Why are you lying to me?" His voice was so angry that she barely recognized it, but the face was his. And the rage in his eyes could not be mistaken – this was the man who had hit her two days before.

"Dean, this is not what you think…" She finally managed to utter, holding her jaw with her free hand while the other was trying to loosen Dean's grasp on her scalp. Why was she justifying herself, she thought and repressed a wave of anger washing over her.

"You bitch. Are you using? I followed you, you know?" The man continued to ramble. When he let go of her hair, Emily fell to the floor and began searching frantically for her gun, remembering only too late that she had left it on the kitchen counter.

The foot kicked her so hard in her side that she waltzed against the couch, rolled over it and collided with the coffee table with a shattering noise. She did not realize that the glass table had broken apart under her weight, until she looked at her bloody hand.

"What kind of a whore are you? Go and buy drugs behind everyone's back? You're not fooling me anymore, Em…"

The brunette could not open her puffed eyes, but the voice was so close to her face that she was sure that the man was leaning over her.

"I was doing my job…" She whispered with a pleading tone, already hating the vulnerable edge that her voice had taken with the pain.

"Your job? You would do anything for it, right?" The man hissed in her face, grabbing her throat with his right hand and tightening his grasp until he heard Emily whimper.

Emily didn't realize at first when the man's free hand came to rummage around her shirt, working carelessly on the buttons. Still trying to catch her breath and stop the walls from spinning as she opened her eyes, the brunette used both her hands to fight Dean off of her, merely grazing his bare forearms with her nails. The multiple blows on her head had slowed down her reflexes and diminished her physical strength a lot, she noticed as the man yanked her arms away like some limp doll. He was now done with the shirt and going for her pants.

"What are you doing?" She tried to sound angry although her voice was out of control. "Dean, get your hands off me…"

She didn't need to look into the man's eyes to realize that he had completely lost control over his pulsions.

Xxx

"What do you mean, they're gone?" Hotch shouted through the car, sending shivers through his colleagues' spine as he greeted Rossi with a furious look.

"Granger called them away as soon as we had the lead on Jennings." Rossi said, not giving in to his superior's rage.

"Damn!" Hotch muttered, focusing solely on his driving. They were still at least ten minutes away by car, even though driving full speed.

Rossi turned his head ever so slightly to meet Derek's worried gaze. They all wanted to get to Emily before anything irreparable happened. Of course, she was capable of defending herself and armed, but from the scarce detail Hotch gave away, they had to guess she had been knocked out cold by surprise. Which made her vulnerable and without any backup.

"Detective, keep us posted when you have something. And send any spare units you might have to the address of the undercover apartment." Rossi recited a little automatically into the phone, before Hotch had any more chance to bite his – and Detective Granger's – head off.

"I thought Jennings' cell phone and financial activities had been traced…" Derek asked with a frown.

"I don't think it's Jennings…" Hotch said without looking away from the road. He didn't need to make an accident now.

"You think it's her boyfriend again?" Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow. "That would be damn bad timing."

"Prentiss said something about that yesterday. She found it weird that he had just given up like that…"

"Oh crap." Hotch's angry voice echoed through the SUV.

"What now?" Rossi looked over to find an unusual nervousness in his eyes.

"Nothing. I just can't believe we let it get out-of-hand like that…"

Derek shook his head in disbelief, swallowing his fright about the velocity of Hotch's driving. He flipped open his cell phone to call the station. Maybe there were police units in the area who could check on Emily's well-being before they got there.

Xxx

"Stop that, Dean. Why…"

"Shut up!" He shouted with a crazy voice, accompanying his order with a forceful slap across Emily's face. She was so stunned that one more blow would have changed nothing to her state. Her head was already pounding, she felt dizzy and unable to control her movements. She was probably concussed, Emily realized as everything became black in front of her eyes and she had to concentrate every fiber of her being on staying awake.

She could vaguely feel her pants being torn from her thighs, and decided that it was the time to react. She couldn't just let the man take advantage of her. She had been punched, stabbed, even shot in the field – but this… this would be entirely different. This would make her a victim. Using the last bit of strength in her members, the brunette shot her leg upwards. The groan Dean let escape confirmed her that she had reached exactly the point she was aiming for. The man stumbled backwards with his hands on the sensitive area, leaving enough space for Emily to crawl away from him. She used both her hands to stand up, although the dizziness made every step away difficult. She just had to reach the kitchen, she told herself, holding her head with one hand while the other was guiding her way along the walls and pieces of furniture.

"Don't you get away from me…" She heard Dean hiss in her back. Emily had just reached the desk behind the sofa when a strong hand grabbed her left arm, turning her whole body around briskly. The gun was still out of reach, but Emily's hand enclosed around an ancient lamp standing on the desk. The piece broke into pieces when it came into contact with Dean's head, and he immediately let go of her arm. Emily, now running completely on adrenaline, forced her eyes to open to locate the kitchen, and quickly reached the counter, looking for her gun.

"Stay where you are!" She shouted, her voice broken by the end of the order, and Dean froze in the middle of the living room, his right hand clutching the open wound on his forehead. Just then, she heard steps in the corridor as though an entire army was about to penetrate into the apartment and take possession of the premises.

"Emily?" She did not want to leave Dean out of her vision sight, but she recognized the voice as Hotch's. He soon came to stand at her side, his panicked gaze lingering over her bloody jaw, her shaking hand, her open shirt.

"I think…" Emily stood frozen for a few moments, witnessing as Derek Morgan kicked Dean to the floor, aiming at him with his Glock. As the adrenaline rushed out of her body, she finally felt the pain washing over her from her multiple injuries. Black dots came dancing in front of her eyes and she had to use both hands to steady herself at the counter – though, when she opened her eyes, she realized that she was actually grasping Aaron Hotchner's arms in a vain attempt to stay on her feet.

"Call an ambulance!" She vaguely heard him shout as he helped her sit down on the couch. Her legs must have been working on autopilot, since she could not remember walking through the room.

"Emily, do you hear me?" As her level of adrenaline lowered in her blood, Emily started trembling uncontrollably, and she felt unable to utter a single word that could have calmed down her superior's worries.


	12. Chapter 12

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing**

**Chapter 12: Unspoken words**

The dark-haired agent held his breath as he took in Emily's appearance. The visible blows on her body were too many to be counted, and blood was everywhere. Though his reason told him that part of this blood had come from the injury she had caused to Dean Johnson, Hotch couldn't help feel panic overwhelm him at the sight of it. She had an apparent cut on the left side of her face, almost running from her ear to the inferior part of her jaw, but what worried him most was her partial state of nudity. He was glad that he had not come alone when he felt Derek Morgan brush past him to deal with the 'boyfriend'. Rossi had stayed behind, already over the phone to get an ambulance on the premises as quickly as possible. The elderly agent did not have to look at the brunette – the horror painted over Hotch's features was enough to set him into action.

When he saw Emily starting to sway on her feet, he immediately dove forward and wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from adding another blow to her multiple injuries. The trained FBI agent he was kept the assaulter in the corner of his eye, relaxing only when he saw that Derek was aiming at him with his gun.

"Emily, do you hear me? Agent Prentiss!" His voice rose as he realized that the brunette was in her own world. With baby steps, he guided her to the sofa and made her sit down, finally locking with her gaze as she began shaking. For the first time, Hotch regretted to have traded his jacket for the bulletproof vest, as he had nothing to wrap around Emily's shoulders.

"I don't know what happened…" Emily croaked, lifting a shaking hand to the back of her head, where blood had stuck her hair together.

"You're under shock, Emily. The ambulance is on the way…"

Hotch's eyes lingered on the brunette before shifting to David Rossi, whose face was blank as he stared at the couple. He visibly had something to say but didn't want to interrupt when their female colleague was in such a state of shock.

"Emily, can you tell me what happened?" Hotch's hands had reached over to the brunette's shoulders, to stop her from shaking and – unconsciously – make sure that she was there, breathing and safe.

"He saw me while I was undercover. He called me a liar, he tried… sorry." The brunette seemed to have snapped back to reality, but her voice broke, making it impossible for her to continue her story. She didn't know what to say anyway. Dean had beaten her, tried to kill her, attempted to rape her… How was she supposed to explain all that to her colleagues? For the first time, Emily actually regretted that JJ was not a frontline agent. She would have handled it. She would have understood without words.

"Did he…" As though reading her mind, Hotch asked the dreaded question. For the past minutes, he had tried as hard as possible not to look at the younger agent's open shirt. Even her trousers had been torn apart although she didn't seem to notice that detail.

"No." She said in a breath, staring straight into Hotch's eyes to scare him off pushing the subject.

When the paramedics finally arrived at the right floor, they were greeted by Rossi, who had chosen to stay away from Emily. Knowing her pride, he also knew she wouldn't want to be surrounded by panicked colleagues in such a state of vulnerability. Hotch was almost shoved away from his friend as the young doctors kneed down to assess the state of her injuries. Which left him with no other choice than taking some distance from Emily and joining Rossi in the corridor.

"Where's the bastard?"

David Rossi flinched as the word escaped Hotch's mouth.

"Derek brought him downstairs to the local officers – he would have kicked the man to a bloody pulp if he had been alone with him for one more minute."

Hotch nodded, but his eyes were set on the blood smeared over his hands.

"How is she?"

The dark-haired man offered as a mere response a sigh which he tried vainly to suppress. But it came out anyway, to Rossi's surprise. Aaron Hotchner usually always had a smart comment to make.

"Hotch?" As Rossi repeated his question, his unit chief finally came back to reality and looked at his friend in total helplessness.

"I think he… I think he raped her. Or tried to. Which is as bad." Hotch stammered, keeping his voice low so that Emily would not hear.

"Do you want me to call JJ?" Rossi had quickly added two to four and thought that a woman would get through to their female colleague better than themselves. But the elderly agent could swear he saw disappointment – or maybe jealousy – in his friend's eyes at the question. Rossi would probably have a hard time getting the unit chief away from Emily Prentiss, he thought to himself, noticing how Hotch glanced protectively to his agent every thirty seconds.

"Maybe you should. But I doubt Emily would talk, even to her."

He stopped abruptly when he spotted Derek walk up to them, wearing a heavy face and rubbing his right hand.

"Tell me you didn't kill the man…" Rossi's eyes widened as he laid his eyes on the bruised knuckles the younger agent was doing his best to hide. Although the situation was far from being funny, Hotch suddenly felt like laughing, but he only let out a sigh of relief. His nerves had been put under too great pressure, he told himself to find an excuse to his bizarre attitude.

"He resisted when I handed him over to local PD." Derek stated matter of factly, pushing away any apology or justification for his sudden act of violence. Aaron Hotchner would be the last to comment on his gesture. "How is Emily?"

Three pairs of eyes were directed inside the apartment. Emily was still seated on the sofa and apparently arguing with the paramedic, although none of them could hear what was being said.

"I should go before she reaches for her gun." Hotch muttered to his colleagues, returning into the dim light of the apartment. As he crossed the living room, he tried not to look at the damage that Dean had done, chasing his agent around the place. For a moment, he merely stood behind Emily so that she could not see him. But somehow, she felt his presence and turned around, raising red eyes to him. The man stared at her, not knowing whether she expected him to squeeze her shoulder for support, or leave her in peace. The brunette turned back to the paramedics without saying a word, and the unit chief took that as an invitation to stay. In his back, he could already hear local policemen rushing up the stairs – probably to take possession over the crime scene, or get a proper statement out of SSA Emily Prentiss. This would wait, he decided, purposely ignoring the hushed conversations going on in the corridor.

"Are you taking her to the hospital?" The dark-haired man asked, his question obviously directed at the young paramedic while his eyes were still set on the bloody hair of Emily.

"I am not going, Hotch." She said matter-of-factly before the doctor had a chance to answer himself.

"Emily, do not fight with me tonight." His voice was a little harsher than he had intended it to be, and he pursed his lips when he distinctly saw the brunette flinch. Was it the tone of his voice or the fact that he had shifted from supporting friend to implacable boss that had hurt her?

"Miss…"

"Agent." Hotch cut him sharply, his bad humor now directed at the paramedic who obviously thought Emily was some sort of vulnerable abused woman. Hotch knew that it drove Emily mad when she was talked to like a frail woman rather than a capable agent.

"Agent," he continued without giving any attention to the dark-haired agent, "you need stitches for the cut on your head, and cheek, and I would recommend that they run an IRM to make sure there is no internal bleeding in your brain."

Emily flinched again, hit in the face by the boldness of his words. Medical staff usually wouldn't talk so tactlessly. Emily must have made him mad for him to react like this, thought Hotch to himself. He was so wrapped up in his guesses that he didn't notice immediately how the brunette was staring at him, in search for some moral support. He shrugged and tried to tell her with his dark yet understanding look that she was not going to get any help from him on this point.

"You almost fainted and couldn't even stand on your own. I will drag you to the hospital myself if I have too."

The earlier harsh tone of Hotch seemed forgotten by the paramedic – he had heard his colleague call him Nick – as he looked gratefully at the man. Even in her vulnerable state, Emily would probably have been able to break the young man with one single blow.

Hotch suddenly felt someone in his back and turned slightly to acknowledge Rossi's presence. Derek Morgan was standing a few feet back, not daring to look at Emily just yet. He needed his friend, the one he teased and with whom he could argue with. And seeing the strong Emily Prentiss all beaten and shaking was throwing away all the sense of normalcy in his life.

"They found Jennings." Rossi said just loud enough for Hotch to hear, although Emily's trained ears immediately noted the information and made her turn around, expecting an elaboration which did not come. Rossi offered her a smile, but he didn't seem finished yet. When Nick had managed to get Emily's attention back, Rossi squeezed his superior's arm to get his full attention.

"What is it?" Hotch asked when they were far enough for no one to overhear.

"Jennings had blood all over him when they found him in his car." He paused, waiting for the news to sink in Aaron's brain. If possible, his brown eyes took an even darker look as he considered the full meaning of this statement.

"Did they found the victim?"

"Not yet. Granger put all his available units on the search."

The two men fell into an uncomfortable silence, until Hotch brushed a hand over his tired face, revealing desperation and regrets.

"The unsub didn't stick to his MO and struck earlier. There was nothing we could have done." Rossi whispered with his usual rational tone. Each time he used this voice, Aaron Hotchner felt himself lose twenty years and go back to college, where he would face this ugly and unforgiving teacher.

"He probably had chosen his victim way before we even came up with the idea of sending Emily undercover…" Rossi continued, feeling that Hotch was not convinced yet.

"I know. Where is he now?"

Rossi sighed in relief – for a mere second, he had feared that Hotch would actually lose his nerves and start crying or yelling, or maybe throwing punches at the wall – and put both hands on his hips, a gesture he always made when he had won an argument.

"Being brought by solid escort to the police station. They will want one of us to get his confession, even though we have enough evidence to put him in jail for life." Rossi's eyes had shifted to a point behind Hotch, witnessing as Emily was getting up with the help of Nick's assistant.

"Send Reid in. He has the best insight on the man – and he will control himself better than Morgan or me." The dark-haired agent called out, already making his way back to the brunette. Rossi took it as a sign of dismissal and walked out into the corridor to hand over the instructions.

Emily swayed on her feet even with the help of both men, and Nick gave a curious look as Hotch came to stand behind her, reaching for her arm.

"She won't let us put her on the stretcher." He said, almost pleading.

"I can walk."

Hotch sighed in exasperation, although the softness of his eyes revealed the true state of his emotions. He paused for a second, feeling that everyone was waiting for his order. Emily hoped he would allow her to walk, while Nick obviously expected Hotch to take his side again.

"It's okay, I'll help her." He announced, ignoring the despaired look Nick greeted him with. "Um… Do you have a blanket maybe?"

It was only then that Emily realized the state of her clothes – or rather, the lack of it. The blouse had been torn open, almost all buttons missing, revealing her black bra and the bruises that were already appearing on the upper half of her chest. And although Dean had not managed to get her trousers off of her completely, he had done a good job tearing apart the zipper and almost cutting one leg of the black trousers in two. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized in what state almost all the men on her unit had seen her. The brunette raised her eyes to meet Hotch's worried gaze, and she suddenly felt a wave of shame wash over her.

"Thank you." Hotch said as Nick handed him a warming blanket from his kit, and he attempted to wrap the fabric around Emily's, surprised by the way she pulled the blanket out his hands.

"I can do it myself, Hotch." She muttered, clearly pissed at his protective attitude. Startled, Hotch didn't say anything, but nodded to Nick and his assistant that they were ready to go. When he reached for her forearm, Emily shrugged away once again, almost falling over in the process. Her friend slid an arm around her waist just in time to keep her from stumbling over her own feet, and he held her gaze as she directed furious eyes in his direction.

"It's either me or the stretcher. Your choice." He said coldly, knowing that only the boss' voice would help at this point.

"Fine." She spat, grabbing his hand and letting him steady her walking. As they left the apartment and marched down the corridor with baby steps, Emily had to concentrate to stay angry at Hotch despite his sweetness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Danger from home**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds and make no money writing. Last chapter, people! I hope you enjoyed it, and I would appreciate your general feedback on the story/constructive criticism/advices and so on. Thank you for your reading!**

**Chapter 13: No regrets, no secrets**

Emily Prentiss stretched her aching legs and leaned back into the comfortable cushions of her sofa. She hadn't enjoyed the tranquility and coziness of her apartment in a very long time, she noted to herself, sipping the fresh beer she had just gotten out of her fridge. Ever since she had bought the place, three years before, she had not spent much quality time in it. Sometimes, after a long case, she wasn't even fit enough to walk up the stairs, falling instead onto her sofa for a short coma. And apart from brewing her morning coffee or warming up a rest of junk food, she had never properly used her kitchen. Maybe this short – and forced – vacation would be the occasion for Emily to finally discover her surroundings, take long hot baths and sleep in a proper bed. As she was taking another sip at her beer, Emily's cell phone vibrated and she paused for a second, staring at the device like it was some alien visitor. The brunette didn't have to look to know who was calling her at this indecent hour.

"Prentiss." She answered with her imperturbable tone, already raising her bottle for another mouthful of beer.

"Emily, it's Hotch."

"I know that." She said a little harshly, repressing a comment about the fact that she had this little revolution that was named 'caller ID'. "It's the middle of the night."

The voice on the other end of the line paused, then added in a soft tone. "And yet you answer on the third ring."

"What do you want?"

"You almost ran away from us earlier. Can we talk?"

Emily closed her eyes in disbelief at her own tactlessness, for which she was paying now. Indeed, Reid had been the one to push the idea of a team night, and everyone had been quite enthusiastic, except Hotch – who never really was enthusiastic about these things but would gladly come along – and Emily. And, instead of giving a stupid excuse or making up plans she already had for the evening, the brunette had simply paled and walked away while the others were talking. Stupid, really. Stupid and incomprehensible to herself as well as to her colleagues. How was she supposed to explain that she had felt suffocating all at once? How could she tell them about her regular panic attacks, which caught her by surprise at many different occasions, be it an elevator ride with fellow agents or a team night in a packed bar of Quantico?

"Emily?" When Hotch called out her name for the third time, his voice becoming more and more shriek with worry, the brunette realized that she had not given an answer yet.

"Sorry. Yeah, I know it was a little weird. I just didn't feel like going out, that's all." She hoped her voice wouldn't give away too much of her emotions, although it was highly probable that Hotch could read through the lines.

"I know it's late. But since you are not sleeping… I'm parked outside your building. I'd like to come up if that's okay with you."

She was so caught by surprise that she almost choked the last sip of beer. Straightening her body on the couch with a frown – the pain in her ribs and chest had still not disappeared completely – Emily breathed in deeply.

"Okay, I'll leave the door open." And she hung up without even waiting for an answer.

Xxx

"Hotch, seriously?" She greeted him with wide eyes when Hotch had finally climbed the four floors to her apartment and had arrived at her slightly open door.

"I'm sorry to intrude this late." He said, looking at the tip of his shoes, with his usual gentlemanly voice. It was hard to believe that Aaron Hotchner would come to knock at his agent's door at three thirty in the morning.

"Come in." She called out, already making her way back to the sofa. A little hesitant, Hotch looked around and finally took the invitation, coming to sit next to Emily on the large couch.

"What do you want?"

"I think we need to talk." He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees without looking at her. For a second, Emily feared that he was maybe here to announce a bad news, because the seriousness of his face would have fit.

"Am I going to lose my job?" She blurted out, her eyes boring holes into Hotch's face. When he turned and smirked, Emily's eyes widened at the strange reaction.

"Rossi and Reid are doing a very good job keeping Strauss from biting your head off. For both of us, actually." He added, after a pause.

"Oh." Emily leaned forward, grimacing at the soreness in her back, to put the empty bottle onto the coffee table. "It's just… You had such a serious face."

It was Aaron's time to let his eyes express his surprise. Since when was he not wearing a serious face? He suppressed the comment, observing the bottle which came to join his baby sister on the table.

"You shouldn't be drinking." He remarked, trying not to sound too paternalist. The brunette merely snorted in return, tearing her eyes away from him and looking out of the window instead, to the magical lights of Washington.

"Help yourself." She muttered, making herself comfortable by folding one leg under her. Hotch didn't say anything for a moment. He wanted _her_ to open up, not the opposite. And pushing for answers wasn't the way to do it.

"Actually, I think I will." Unexpectedly, Aaron stood up and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge only to note its emptiness. A few beers, a couple of apples and a bottle of milk to go with the morning coffee.

Emily took the opportunity to observe her visitor a little more closely. She only remembered a couple of times when she had seen Aaron Hotchner out of his suit and without a tie. As a matter of fact, jokes about him being born in his costume were frequent in the BAU.

"So, did you go?" She heard herself ask when Hotch approached the sofa from behind. He looked puzzled for a second, before understanding that she was referring to the team night.

"Keeping eager women away from Morgan and slowing down Rossi's insane alcohol consumption is not something that quite makes my evening." He answered with a smirk. "Although I can see that there's someone else whose alcohol consumption I should keep an eye on."

"I only had a couple." Emily whined, frowning at the vulnerability of her words. Why was she letting her boss come into her apartment and order her around?

"Right, but where are those strong painkillers they gave you?" By _they_, he obviously meant the bunch of hard-headed doctors who had taken Emily's case in the ER and had insisted on her taking at least a week leave.

"They're fogging my mind." She said defensively, because it was clear from her regular grimaces that she had been out of medication for a while now.

"They're helping with the pain and soreness." Hotch answered without flinching. Emily did not hold his gaze very long but went to the window instead. She wasn't fit enough for verbal jousts. After a moment, the man joined her at the large window bay. I won't leave you alone tonight, his face was screaming, as he looked on the nightly landscape of the capital city.

"So when am I allowed to come back?" She asked, a little uneasy with the silence that felt like a ton of bricks on her shoulders.

"What did the doctors say?" Hotch answered in perfect synchrony. He had awaited this question.

"Come on, Hotch…" She pleaded, turning to face him and give him a convincing pout, which did not seem to work a bit.

"Emily, you need to rest. I already was on your side when it came to get you out of the hospital, and I won't say anything either for the pain meds, but that's all you'll get from me." The dark look he sent her way was far more convincing than the words themselves, and Emily repressed the wish to throw him out of her apartment with violence.

"Fine."

"So, you want to tell me why you ran away earlier?"

"I told you."

Without saying a word, Hotch stared at the brunette, trying to read behind her glassy eyes. He didn't like the vulnerability he saw in them – a vulnerability that had rarely come to light before the events with Dean.

"Prentiss…" The voice was dangerously back to professional, and Hotch mentally kicked himself for giving her his bossy voice, at three thirty in the morning and in her apartment. He was surprised though that the brunette did not immediately fight back or make a nasty comment. Hell, she could have told him to leave twenty minutes before, but had accepted him on her private ground without so much as a comment.

"I needed some air." She simply said, fighting the tears welling up in her eyes. As Hotch took a step closer, Emily almost threw her hands out to make some distance between them, but she reminded herself that he was still her boss. "I'm having panic attacks." She breathed out, feeling a knot grow in her throat from all the pent-up emotions. "But I guess that's not a thing to say to the man who decides whether to put me back in the field or not."

The dark-haired man pursed his lips. He hated it that Emily thought of him only as the snappy and almighty boss. Without even realizing, he reached out for both her forearms, instantly feeling the shaking that was going through her exhausted body.

"Emily, I need you to open up to me. It's a traumatizing experience you went through."

"Don't psychoanalyze me, Hotch." She spat, although the tremolo in her voice gave away all the sadness overwhelming her. The man paused and lowered his head to lock with Emily's eyes, not loosening his grasp.

"You're talking to the man who would rather die in the line of duty than go and see a shrink." The seriousness of his words took Emily a little aback, and she raised her head to stare at him.

"Emily, I need to know… Did he rape you?" Now it was Hotch's turn to fight the fear off his voice. He was almost sure that his voice had broken by the end of the sentence, although he could not be certain because of the strong pounding in his head. He had rarely felt this nervous.

"He didn't." She said, horrified that Hotch might have gotten this idea. "It was close though."

Xxx

_Emily walked back into the police station, feeling all eyes on her. The bullpen was now much more crowded than it had been when she had left it a few hours before. But despite the number of occupants, all life seemed to have stopped on the premises. The officers were wearing a heavy face, and the only sounds disrupting the awful silence were hushed conversations and the heartbreaking cries of Jane Samuels' parents. Emily's eyes went straight to the conference room, in which she could see the rest of her team. JJ had offered to assist the local officer in charge of breaking the news to the parents, but the others had retreated to these safe quarters. When the brunette came nearer, she noticed Reid's additional absence, but didn't say a word until she was inside the room and out of ear shot._

"_When did they find her?"_

_Hotch had turned a curious glance in her direction – hesitating between worry and disapproval at the blunt question. He had not had the heart to tell her about the last victim. Not in the undercover apartment, not in the ambulance as he had rid with her, not in the ER waiting room as he had talked Emily into staying put until the doctors had examined her. But it was now the next day, and Hotch knew that he couldn't hide the context of Jennings' arrest to Emily any longer. So he had agreed when Emily discharged herself against medical advice, and had driven her to the police station for debriefing._

Xxx

Hotch exhaled a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. He resisted dragging Emily into a tight embrace, knowing that she would probably fear the close contact. Although he had tried hard not to – intrateam profiling rule oblige – Hotch had noticed how Emily had avoided all physical contact with her colleagues in the last days, on the rare occasions when she had come to visit the team. Two days before, she had almost spilt her cup of coffee because Derek had reached out a little too abruptly. And the day before, she had distinctly flinched when JJ had patted on her shoulder to get her attention. And yet, no sign of fear or uneasiness when Hotch himself made the contact. She trusted him with all her heart. She trusted him with her life. That's why only he could bounce unannounced into her apartment in the middle of the night, and demand explanations…

"You have nothing to be afraid of. Dean Johnson is probably somewhere between his psychic eval' and the bus to Washington State Prison." He said softly.

"I know, Hotch. I'm not scared because of this prick…" Her voice conveyed so much disgust that it made Hotch raise an eyebrow.

"I just feel so weak… We failed in our mission."

"It happens." He answered after a pause, knowing that she was referring to Jane Samuels. The parents had not exactly been grateful to the FBI for their work. They couldn't possibly know that Hotch's team had brought the police on the trace of Jennings. All they would remember was that they had arrived too late for their daughter.

"Well we might have saved her if you hadn't had to come to my rescue." Emily said matter-of-factly, lowering her gaze unconsciously.

"We wouldn't have, Emily. Get that out of your head." Hotch's voice had become as dark as his expression, as he observed the tears streaming down Emily's cheeks. "It's the _job_, Prentiss. Sometimes we save them, and sometimes we come too late."

Before she realized it, Emily extended her arms and wrapped them around Hotch's waist, burying her tear-stained face into his polo. The man seemed to hesitate a moment, his hands frozen in mid-air as he pondered whether it would be appropriate to hug his coworker in return. But, after all, there was nothing appropriate about what he had done or thought in the past hours, so he relaxed and wrapped his own arms against the shivering form of Emily. Strangely, he found that the embrace calmed him down as well. He wasn't much of a hugger, but maybe this was exactly what he needed at the moment. The proximity; the warmth of another body against his; the certainty that he could do this job and still feel and fear like a human being.

"Does that mean I can come back to work tomorrow?"

The light tone of her voice made Hotch chuckle silently. Whatever happened on or off the job, Emily Prentiss would always be this smart and funny woman who could make the most dramatic situation light-hearted with a single joke.

"Only if you keep it to yourself that I sometimes wear something else than a suit and that I'm not that bad of a hugger…" He muttered against her hair as he tightened the embrace. It was his lifeline, the only thing that could still help him keep his own sanity.

**THE END**


End file.
